Dinner for Two
by Reverie Wilde
Summary: Harry and Ron attend a Ministry sponsored silent auction. Harry, hoping to revive a failing relationship, bids on a romantic, private cooking lesson for two. He gets a little more than he bargained for when he wins. MxM Drarry
1. Chapter 1

***So, this sort of popped into my head while I was trying to wrap up Sixth Year Switch. As usual, I got distracted. This will be a relatively short diversion.**

 **Harry and Ron attend a Ministry sponsored silent auction. Harry, hoping to revive a failing relationship, bids on a romantic, private cooking lesson for two. He gets a little more than he bargained for when he wins. MxM Drarry**

* * *

oOo

"Hermione's gonna kill me," Ron chuckled. "I bid far too much money on that Quidditch equipment."

"It's for charity, Ron. I hardly think Hermione would be upset," Harry said.

Harry and Ron stood in front of yet another display on which to bid. The silent auction organized by the Ministry was sure to raise a lot of money. Five years after the war, there were still plenty of families struggling to get back on their feet.

"Yeah, I guess. We've been fortunate to find work at the Ministry. I'm happy to help, but I wish it weren't so close to Christmas."

"So, bid on things you can give Hermione for Christmas," Harry told him. "Of course, all of this wouldn't be necessary if those wretched goblins would loosen their purse strings a bit and help out."

Ron shrugged. "At least we'll get something for our donations. What's this one?"

Harry read the card in front of the bidding list.

" _Kiss the Cook_ is offering a romantic cooking lesson for two. One of our professional, classically trained chefs will come to your home to teach you and your partner how to prepare a gourmet meal together– Muggle style. The menu will include filet mignon, roasted new potatoes, fresh vegetable medley, and creamy béarnaise sauce." He turned to Ron. "Sounds delicious."

"Did you say Muggle style cooking?" Ron frowned.

"Yeah."

"Why Muggle style? What's so great about that?"

Cocking his head, Harry thought. "Well, it takes longer to cook that way. I suppose it could be fun to cook with your lover. You'd have to spend quite a bit of time together."

"Hm. Maybe I'll bid on this. I mean, Hermione grew up Muggle. She might really like this. Although, I'm pants at cooking."

"But that's the point Ron. A chef will come and show you how to do everything." Harry pursed his lips. "Maybe I should bid on this. Clive and I haven't been doing so well lately. It seems we argue about the smallest things. We could really use a romantic evening doing something fun."

"Oi, I just said I was going to bid on it."

"It's an auction," Harry laughed. "May the best man win."

Harry looked at the previous amount bid and added five galleons in his own. Ron frowned and bid five galleons more than him.

Rolling his eyes, Harry tugged Ron's arm. "Let's see what else there is."

They continued walking around the ballroom, stopping at every table display to see if it was something in which they were interested. By the end of the evening, Ron had bid on a complete set of Quidditch equipment, a beautiful ruby necklace, and a vacation getaway in Switzerland, in a addition to the cooking lesson. Harry bid on new bedroom furniture, a state of the art magical camera, and also the cooking lessons.

The pair passed up on many other popular items, such as the large gift basket from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Each of them occasionally left the other's side to surreptitiously add to their bid for the cooking lesson.

By the end of the evening, guests had filled up on snacks and alcohol, and they were feeling very generous. Harry made a last minute bid on new, fine quality robes at Madam Malkins thinking he might give it as a gift to Clive if he had the winning bid.

When the bidding closed, the guests gathered around to find out who had the highest bids and would be taking home the prizes.

To his surprise, Ron had the highest bid for the ruby necklace. He was expected to make payment on the spot and take his item. After shelling out galleons he wished he hadn't spent, he accepted the gold necklace which was wrapped up in a box with ribbon and sparkles.

"You look a bit pale, mate. Are you all right?" asked Harry.

"Yeah, I was sort of hoping someone else would get that one. That way, I could at least tell Hermione that I tried to get it for her."

Harry grinned. "But this way, you can say you won it just for her."

"I suppose. But if I win anything else, I'll have spent way more than I told her I would."

Harry clapped him on the back. "It's all for the greater good."

He was in a fine mood until the furniture, the camera and the robes from Madam Malkin's were all scooped out from under him.

"Well, I'm not having much luck tonight," he lamented.

"They're announcing the Quidditch equipment," Ron gasped. He slumped in relief as someone else's name was called.

"Ron, you need to calm down. You know, if you win that cooking lesson, I'll be happy to take it off your hands."

"No way."

"But I thought you didn't want to spend any more money."

"I didn't, but Hermione would probably like that more than the necklace. Why don't you take that off my hands?"

"I can't give Clive women's jewelry. He's a bit fussy, but he's not a ponce."

"Next item up," a woman announced. "Ooh, I nearly bid on this one myself. But Ministry officials weren't allowed," she chuckled. "A romantic cooking lesson for two, courtesy of _Kiss the Cook_ catering. The winning bid goes to . . . Mr. Harry Potter."

Harry grinned at Ron. "That's a stroke of luck, for both of us."

He happily went and paid his galleons, more than he intended,but hopefully well worth it. In return he was given instructions to contact the burgeoning business to arrange a date and time for one of the chefs to arrive for the lesson.

"I think this is just what Clive and I need. An evening learning something new together. We've been doing too many things apart from one another."

oOo

Harry arranged to have a chef come to his flat the following weekend. He was nearly bursting with excitement when Clive showed up and he announced his surprise.

"You want me to cook my _own_ meal?" Clive sneered. "I thought you were going to take me out."

"No. Well, yes, technically we'll be cooking our own meal, but it will be fun."

"What's fun about waving your wand over some ingredients?"

"Oh, it's Muggle cooking. So we–

" _Muggle_ cooking? What in Merlin's name made you think Muggle cooking would be appealing?"

Harry pouted. "I was raised Muggle for much of my life."

"I know. And your Muggle family was awful to you. Why would you want to have anything to do with that way of life?" Clive questioned.

"Not all Muggles are like that. And besides, this isn't about _how_ we cook, it's about us doing something together."

"We can go to a restaurant together." Clive picked his jacket back up. "Let's go."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Harry stood his ground. "You don't appreciate the effort at all."

"What effort? You got pissed and bid on a stupid do-it-yourself supper."

By then, Harry was fuming. "It's not stupid. You always think the things I want to do are stupid."

Clive raised his eyebrows as if to agree. "I've been trying to groom you into the person you should be, but you fight me at every turn."

"The person I _should_ be?"

"You're a celebrity, an icon. You should be living a life of luxury. You can afford it. But instead you want to work for a living, live in this simple flat and now you want to cook for yourself. You don't even have a house elf."

Harry didn't know whether to be angry or sad. Clive didn't seem to care for Harry at all. He was only interested in fame and riches.

"I think you need to leave."

"Harry, I'm only trying to help you. You could be _so_ much more." Clive's tone was condescending.

"I'm happy with who I am. If you're not, then . . . it's over."

"Are you actually breaking up with me?" Clive laughed. "I'm the only thing adding culture to your life. Without me, all you'd have is those low class Weasleys."

"Out!" Harry'd had enough. "We're through. I never want to see you again."

"Harry, you don't mean that."

"Yes, I do." And he did. He realized that he didn't say those things only out of anger. He was truly relieved to be rid of Clive. Harry couldn't understand why he'd put up with him so long.

Perhaps it was the mind blowing sex. But that wasn't enough to sustain a relationship.

Clive didn't even have the decency to appear remorseful for the things he'd said.

"Fine. But don't come crawling back to me when your name falls into oblivion and people no longer clamor for your autograph."

"I look forward to that."

"What a waste," Clive muttered as he headed for the door.

After he left, Harry slammed the door, to little satisfaction. How much time had he wasted on that man? Clive had been suave and handsome, and seemed as though he had Harry's best interest at heart. When they met, Harry was relatively naive and inexperienced in relationships, being only twenty-two. Clive was nine years his senior. Almost a year later, they were no closer emotionally. Though, Clive had taught Harry everything he knew about shagging, which was considerable.

Plopping himself into an armchair, Harry thought about the time he squandered. But he was still young. He had time to find what he really wanted.

It had been so long since he considered it, Harry wasn't sure what he wanted. Ron and Hermione certainly had something worth coveting. However, they'd known one another since they were children. There were so many shared memories and experiences, Harry could't possibly hope to coming close to that sort of intimacy.

Regarding Clive's other accusations, Harry could honestly say he was happy in his small flat and working at the Ministry as an Auror. Hermione had drilled into his head that keeping house elves was a bad thing. And he really didn't mind cooking and cleaning after himself.

He sighed, and got up to change into trackies when his doorbell rang. He didn't know how he'd react if Clive had come back to try and talk him out of breaking up.

When he opened the door, the last thing he'd ever expected to see was there.

"You're kidding me, right?" the blond man in the hallway groused.

oOo


	2. Chapter 2

***I'm happy to see some of my loyal readers following this, as well as some new names!**

 **Diabolica Angelus- thanks for the cry of injustice on my behalf :) There was some sort of glitch and I actually did get several reviews but they didn't show up.**

 **sjrodgers23- you'll learn some of that in this chapter.**

 **Thanks also to cassy1994, SerpensPrincess, Jo, Hopelesslylostfangirl, WitchRavenFox, Ashinia and KatieMarrie for reading and reviewing.**

* * *

oOo

Harry stood with his mouth open. "What the devil are you doing here? How did you find out where I live?"

Holding up the large bags in his hands, Draco simply said, " _Kiss the Cook_."

" _You're_ the chef?" Harry was in disbelief. "You teach people how to cook?"

"Yes. Is it really so difficult to believe?"

"Actually, yes. The thought of you doing anything Muggle style is unbelievable."

"Touché. But we do what we have to do. Are you going to let me in or make me stand out here in the cold?"

"Oh." Harry mindlessly opened the door and stepped aside.

Draco strutted past, carrying grocery bags full of food, as well as a backpack.

"Where is your kitchen?"

"Um, in there," Harry pointed. "But it's not necessary. My date . . . well, I no longer have one. So you can go, and take all this with you."

"You paid for a service. I'm contracted to fulfill that service."

"Didn't you hear me? I broke up with my boyfriend, so I have no use for a romantic supper for two."

"Perhaps. But you still need to eat. And cooking for oneself is a useful skill."

"I know how to cook . . . some things," Harry replied. "I don't have a house elf."

"No, I imagine not."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Giving Harry a questioning look, Draco answered, "I may not know much about you these days, but I do know you're not one to have someone do for you what you're capable of doing yourself."

Harry opened his mouth, expecting to refute whatever Draco had to say, until he realized it was sort of a compliment.

"And, I assume Granger would pressure you into not having a house elf, with her campaigning and all."

And there was the little jab.

"Well, the point is, I know how to cook well enough, so I do't need you. You can go off and do whatever it is you do."

"First of all, Potter, this _is_ what I do. Secondly, you must have thought you'd benefit from having a professional teach you some cooking techniques. And thirdly, you paid for this, so you're getting it. I'm not risking my reputation on your whim."

Harry sighed. "Fine."

"Good. Now, if you'll show me to your kitchen, I can make an adjustment to your stove to allow for Muggle cooking. Or do you already have a Muggle stove?"

"No, I don't. You really do this for a living?"

"Yes. I also teach classes at _Kiss the Cook_ offices. And I provide catering services. It's a growing business. There are only three of us at the moment, but we're looking to add chefs."

"I had no idea." Harry sat down and watched Draco cast some spells in and around his stove.

"You can't sit down and do this," Draco snickered. "Cooking requires active participation."

"Oh, right." Harry got up and walked to the counter where Draco was putting out vegetables, cutting boards, spices and wicked looking knives, in Harry's opinion.

"First thing you want to do is protect your clothing. Put this on." Draco handed him an apron with the company logo– a pair of bright red lips topped by a traditional chef's hat.

Harry complied, mainly because he was wearing one of his favorite jumpers. It was a deep plum, which Clive told him complimented his eyes. And it wasn't at all bulky. In fact, it was finely woven enough to flaunt his well toned physique underneath.

He wished he had worn looser jeans, however. Originally, we was hoping to keep Clive's attention during the evening with the way they hugged his arse. Now, he simply wanted to be comfortable.

"We're going to start off with the potatoes, since they will take the longest to cook. Then we'll move onto the vegetable medley, and finally, the filet. However, before we do any of that, we need to season the meat."

"Season it?"

"Have you ever cooked beef?" Draco asked.

Harry's instinct was to be defensive, but Draco hadn't said it in a condescending manner.

"Usually in burger form. I haven't really attempted any fancy cuts."

"All right. We'll season it to add flavor and to keep the meat moist and juicy. Filet is cut with little fat and flavor, though if cooked properly is wonderfully tender."

Harry had to admit he admired the way Draco spoke about food. He was passionate about it and was happy to share his knowledge. Two traits Harry never would have used to describe the man in the past.

Explaining every step, as well as the reason each ingredient was chosen, Draco directed Harry to put together a dry rub and cover both sides of the two generously portioned filets. They put the filets aside, washed the workspace and began preparing the potatoes.

As they cut the small potatoes into fourths, Harry was curious. He and Draco had managed to be civil during their past few meetings, but they had never gotten very personal in their conversations.

"What made you want to do this?"

"Necessity," Draco answered. "I was denied any position in the Ministry. Rightly so, I suppose. And Hogwarts had no use for me. The local apothecaries wouldn't take me on as an apprentice. Being on the wrong side does have its disadvantages."

"Oh, I didn't realize."

"You didn't realize what? That it would be impossible for me to find work with a Dark Mark on my arm?" Draco cleared his throat. "My apologies. I don't normally talk to clients so bluntly. Even after five years, I haven't let go of all the bitterness."

"It's all right. It was a stupid thing for me to say. Of course I should have realized things would be difficult for you."

"It's past," said Draco. "I may not be making potions as originally planned, but cooking is similar in a way. And I truly enjoy it."

"Wow."

Raising an eyebrow, Draco questioned, "Wow, what?"

"Oh, I just meant, that's a great attitude." This new Draco confused Harry. It was so much easier to trade insults.

Uncomfortable with the compliment, Draco began showing Harry how to arrange the potatoes in a glass baking dish. They poured melted butter, spices and caraway seeds over top and placed the dish in the oven.

"So, vegetables are next?" Harry asked eagerly. He hated to admit this experience was better than he thought it would be. He wondered what it would have been like with Clive. "Not the meat?"

"Vegetables first. The filet will take very little time to cook. You'll be eating it medium rare."

"Is that the best way?"

"In my opinion. More done would make the meat chewy. Less done is too bloody for most people's appetite."

"All right." Harry looked more closely at the vegetables on the counter. "I'm not a big fan of cauliflower."

"You will be when you taste this," Draco said with confidence.

"Hm." Harry was skeptical. "And what's that?" He pointed to a long yellow vegetable.

"Winter squash. Have you never eaten it?"

"Oh, yeah, I guess. But I don't think I've ever seen a whole one before."

Draco placed a cutting board, peeler, and knife in front of Harry, then the same in front of himself.

"First we wash our hands and scrub the vegetables."

Harry watched and imitated whatever Draco did. His vegetables weren't cut quite as evenly as Draco's, but they were passable. Draco showed him how to peel down the sides of the zucchini, leaving some of the peel on in stripes of color. When he cut them, they looked like little flowers. Harry thought it made them look more appetizing, which was the whole point.

"Take care, you don't want to cut yourself," warned Draco. He put down his own utensils.

As though it was nothing, he stood behind Harry, reaching around him, placing his hands on top of Harry's. Had he not an extremely sharp knife in his hand, Harry would have pulled away quickly. As it was, he had little choice but to allow Draco to do as he pleased.

"Curl your fingers under so the blade won't catch them. Like this," he advised. "And angle you cutting hand just a bit more." He moved Harry's hand for him.

Harry made a few more cuts after making the adjustments Draco suggested.

"Better," praised Draco. He release Harry's hands and took up his place beside him again.

Meanwhile, Harry was still a bit flustered, but he continued to slice until he got to the end. Draco was still finished well before him.

"You did that so fast."

"Loads of practice," Draco laughed. "And loads of nicks and cuts."

After the zucchini, they cut up the cauliflower, carrots, yellow squash and peppers in three different colors.

"Looks pretty," Harry smiled.

"That's the point. You eat with your eyes first. Your food should look as good as it tastes."

"Well, it does. How do we cook it?"

From his backpack Draco pulled a shallow pan.

"We're going to sauté them with olive oil, parsley, salt, pepper and a bit of paprika."

While Draco directed him, Harry put the oil in the pan, then the vegetables when it was hot. After sprinkling the vegetables with the spices, Harry was told to toss them together.

"How?" Harry looked around for a spoon or spatula.

Draco picked up the pan by the handle, shimmying and shaking it. Harry watched as the medley got tossed about and mixed together.

"Here, you give it a go."

Tentatively, Harry picked up the pan and tried to do the same as Draco. A few of the vegetables flew out of the pan while the rest didn't move at all.

"I can't do this," he grumbled.

"Of course you can. It's all in the wrist. Similar to casting a spell."

"Yeah, with a really heavy wand."

Draco laughed, and Harry found that he liked making him laugh. It seemed like a significant accomplishment seeing as the only time Draco laughed when they were young was at Harry's expense. It reminded him that Clive rarely laughed at Harry's humor, calling it immature.

"Touché. But give it another try anyway."

Again, Draco's hand covered Harry's as he showed him how to move his arm and wrist to toss the vegetables just so.

"It's sort of the opposite of the way I flick my wrist for a spell," Draco told him. "But everyone is different."  
"Do you always . . . do that?"

"Do what?"

"Put your . . . hands on . . ." Harry blushed. But since Draco was mostly behind him, he didn't notice.

"I find hand over hand instruction to be very effective. It's one thing to tell someone what to do, but easier to show them. Are you getting used to it?"

"Strangely enough, yes," Harry replied slowly.

"Strangely?"

Realizing that Draco meant the wrist movement and not the touch of his hand, Harry quickly said, "Oh, uh, I mean I'm surprised that I can do any of this."

"You're doing well. Try tossing them on your own." Draco removed his hand and stepped back.

Harry wasn't nearly as graceful as Draco, though he got the hang of it well enough. As Harry continued with that, Draco put together the béarnaise sauce. It was a little advanced for a beginner, so he did that on his own. They let the vegetables sit for a few minutes while moving on to the next task.

"Let's move on to my favorite part, the meat."

Harry found himself grinning at Draco's unintentional innuendo.

"All right."

"First thing to do is set the oven at a high temperature."

"The oven? Won't that take a long time?"

"No. Not with filet. If you're going to cook a lesser roast, you'd cook it for a longer period of time at a lower temperature. These beauties will be done in about ten minutes. But before we do that, let's check out the potatoes. Give them a poke with your fork. They should give easily but not fall apart."

Harry's fork glided into the first one easily. He tried another in a different spot just to be sure. He got the same result.

"What do you think?"

"I think they're done?"

Draco laughed. "Are you asking me or telling me? Be confident."

"They're done," Harry nodded.

"Brilliant. Take them out and place the dish on the stove."

As they focused back on the files, Harry raised a skeptical eyebrow, but remained quiet while Draco explained what he was doing.

He poured a bit of olive oil into a hot pan. Then he directed Harry to gently place the pieces of meat down to sear them.

"Whatever you do, don't touch them. Just let them sear for about three minutes, then gently turn them over for another three."

Harry closely watched the timer Draco had set and did as he was told. Draco put a bit of butter into the pan and spooned it over the filets when it melted.

"Mm, that's smells good," Harry smiled. He hadn't realized how hungry he had gotten while they were cooking.

"Nearly finished," said Draco. "Now take a hot mitt and put the whole pan into the oven.

"The whole thing? Is that safe?"

"Perfectly."

Draco set the timer for another five minutes, explaining that normally he kept it to four minutes, but these were slightly thicker steaks. When time was up, Harry pulled the pan out of the oven and gingerly picked up each steak and placed it on another cutting board. Draco covered them with foil.

He directed Harry to give the vegetable pan another toss to make sure they didn't burn. He also tested the potatoes himself, just to be sure they were tender.

Pleased with the results, Draco took in a deep breath and glanced at the food they had prepared. "That should be good. And the filet should be rested and ready to eat in a few more minutes. I suggest plating and sitting down to enjoy it while it's all still hot. I'll just clean up and get out of your hair."

He was leaving already? Harry was surprised by his own disappointment. He found the thought of eating alone depressing.

"There are two meals. Why don't you join me?"

Turning away from the stove top, Draco raised an eyebrow. "You can save the second meal for tomorrow. It won't be quite as good as it will be fresh, but . . ."

"No, really. I . . .I'd like you to join me."

"I don't believe I've ever been invited to stay and eat with a client before." Draco paused. "Are you're certain?"

"I am."

"All right."

Ridiculously relieved, Harry retrieved two plates from the cupboard and handed one to Draco. Before Draco took the dish, he pulled the string on Harry's apron, then lifted it over his head. Again, Harry felt helpless against Draco's intimate actions. Though it was merely an apron, Harry felt as though he were being undressed.

The awkward silence as they dished out was palpable. Draco wasn't sure why he was there, and Harry was seriously considering seducing his personal chef.


	3. Chapter 3

***Kind of wish I called this something other than Dinner for Two, since it's going to go beyond that, but whatever.**

 **Ann10155- I LOVE bringing people over to the dark side lol. Glad you're taking a chance on this. I do have a Dramione called New Year's First Kiss if you're interested.**

 **IchiNaruSunshine- there are always bumps in the road . . . Clive is a useful one (hint, hint)**

 **cassy1994- you're very perceptive. We ate something similar for Christmas dinner**

 **Thanks also to hotflower901, 19missybaker63, Ashinia, and sjrodgers23 for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

Ready to eat the meal they prepared together, Harry gestured for Draco to sit down at the small table in the dining room. It was only then he became fully aware of exactly how romantic the dinner appeared. He had anticipated sitting down to a lovely meal with Clive, so there were candles on the table, an old lace table cloth, and a glass vase containing a single, perfect red rose.

"Perhaps I should blow these out," Harry offered of the candles, to make it seem less like a date.

"I don't mind," said Draco. "It's relaxing. A meal like this should be enjoyed, lingered over. You should be proud of how well it all turned out."

"Because you told me exactly what to do."

Draco grinned. "You'd be surprised by how many people still fuck it up. Oh, I mean, um, sorry."

"For what? Saying fuck? I've been holding my tongue all night. It certainly doesn't bother me if you want to swear."

Chuckling, Draco admitted, "That's a relief. I try very hard to watch my language around clients. But sometimes, I just want to tell the arseholes they can't cook for shite and there isn't much I can do about it."

"So, were you only flattering me in order to get a good tip?"

"I don't accept tips. Then again, I rarely accept dinner invitations," Draco said. His demeanor had become a little more serious, and Harry wondered if he meant from his clients or anyone.

Harry tried a bit of potato, then vegetable, before cutting into his impeccably cooked steak.

"I can't believe I had a hand in this. Normally, I'm eating dried out hamburger and mushy peas. Or takeaway. We eat a lot of takeaway."

"We?" questioned Draco. "Oh, yes. I forgot."

Harry chuckled. "You know what? I nearly forgot about him already myself."

"What happened, then? Or do you not want to talk about it?"

"Not much to talk about," Harry said while he continued to take small bites of heaven. "He was a fucking prick and I have no idea why I was with him for so long."

"Sometimes we stay with the wrong people because it's easier than starting over to find the right person."  
Harry nodded. "I think that's precisely it. Do you have experience with that as well?"

"Too much," Draco answered cryptically.

Curious, but trying not to push it, Harry went on about Clive. "Clive is thirty-two. Hermione always said he was too old for me. At first he was like a mentor. Slowly, he got me to do the things _he_ enjoyed. We socialized mainly with his friends. Though, they all seemed somewhat shallow. They only wanted to hear about Harry Potter's exploits and acts of heroism. They didn't want to know anything about me personally. I was a novelty."

"Then why stay with him?"

"He was _very_ good in bed," Harry said without thinking. He blushed furiously. But Draco laughed. Harry would have humiliated himself again to hear it once more.

"Unfortunately, I've been in your shoes."

 _I'd rather have you in my pants,_ Harry thought. _Fuck. Stop it. You just don't want to be lonely since breaking up with Clive._

"Um, tell me about it."

Unsure if Harry was simply agreeing with him or if he wanted to hear the story, Draco shrugged, "Mine was younger. But legal," he snickered. "Quite . . . enthusiastic, if you catch my drift. We had little in common and I knew it couldn't last. But I was reluctant to give up a sure thing for loneliness or one offs."

"Maybe just for a little while."

"It's been about nine months. I haven't met anybody else I'd like to take the time getting to know. My job keeps me busy though."

"Twenty-three isn't old enough to give up on love, is it?" Harry questioned.

"I'm not giving up. Simply not looking for it."

"That's sort of the same thing," Harry frowned. "It takes effort, no matter what it is, to see the rewards."

"Spoken like a true Gryffindor," Draco smirked. "But I disagree when it comes to love. I believe that should be effortless. It should be as if the universe, or fate, or the gods–whatever you choose to believe in– has brought you together, and you just feel . . ."

"Right," Harry finished.

"I was going to say complete. But right works as well."

"Complete," repeated Harry. "Yes. I didn't feel that way about Clive. I felt inadequate."

"You? Inadequate? I can't imagine what he must have done to make you feel that way. Actually, I _do_ have some idea, having tried myself to make you feel that way when we were young." Draco glanced away. "I shouldn't have stayed. It was unprofessional of me."

He stood and began to clear their plates.

"I can get that," Harry offered.

But Draco kept moving toward the kitchen as though he didn't hear. He took out his wand and spelled all the dishes clean. There was no food to put away, as the supper consisted of exactly two meals. Within a few minutes, Draco's equipment was cleaned and packed.

"I hope you'll keep practicing. You have potential to be a decent cook."

As he moved for the door, Harry called out, "Draco, wait. You don't have to leave."

"I've already overstepped the boundaries. I should go."

"Is the cooking lesson over?"

Cocking his head to the side. "It was over when you were ready to eat. Or, it should have been."

"Then you haven't done anything wrong. I invited you to stay, not as a professional chef. I wanted you to stay because . . . I was enjoying your company."

"But I brought up our time at Hogwarts. Surely you don't want my company now."

"Draco, we were children. And, actually, I do still want your company. It's not late. We can have a nightcap, since there's no dessert."

Standing by the door for a moment or two, Draco finally placed his things on the floor and nodded.

As Harry led him to the sitting room, he offered a variety of drinks. Draco chose a red wine, and Harry poured two glasses.

After going through the typical pre-drink motions of a wine enthusiast, Draco took a sip.

"This is exquisite. What is it?"

Harry picked up the bottle and read, "Chateau Lafite-Rothschild. Nineteen ninety-three. Is that a good one?"

"Good? Harry, do you have any idea how expensive this is?"

"Not really. Clive bought it. Of course, he used my money but– you called me Harry."

"What?"

"I don't think you've used my name all evening. At least not my first name. Oh, and now I've made you feel self-conscious about it."

"I suppose you're right, about using your first name. I don't usually speak to clients casually."

"Good thing I'm no longer your client," Harry smiled. "Let's drink the whole bottle. That would really piss off Clive."

"You really should have saved this for a special occasion."

"What better occasion than a fresh start?" Harry lifted his glass. And Draco did the same. "To a fresh start."

Draco had no idea Harry was speaking of _them_ , and not his emancipation from Clive.

While they finished off the magnum of wine, Harry and Draco found things to talk about. Topics ranged, but kept mostly to their respective careers, past relationships and food they enjoyed. They avoided much talk of their shared past. Draco opened up about his former lover though, revealing himself to be a romantic at heart, if a cautious one. Though Harry's situation had been different, he could sympathize with the frustration of a materialistic lover who had no notions of passion or real affection.

They each had humorous tales about their particular careers. Harry especially liked the story of one of Draco's clients nearly burning down his own house.

And of course, when it came to food, Draco was passionate and knowledgeable. Harry asked questions, which Draco was happy to answer. By the end of the evening, Harry had a mental list of several new dishes he wanted to try.

An hour later, they sat on the sofa facing one another, each with one foot tucked underneath. Shoes had been abandoned long ago. And now their glasses, as well as the bottle, were empty.

Harry was feeling good.

"I guess we killed it," he laughed, taking Draco's empty glass from him.

He could have put them on the coffee table directly in front of the sofa. Instead, he chose to lean forward, stretching to reach the side table behind Draco. As he did, he caught Draco's manly scent.

When he sat back down, he was considerably closer to the man. Without thinking, he lifted a hand and rested it on Draco's chest, rubbing lightly.

"What are you doing?" Draco slurred slightly. Drunk by no means, he was, however, a bit buzzed.

Harry giggled. "I'm not sure. I think I'm making a pass at you."

"Oh. Let me help you." Draco leaned forward, kissing Harry hard and long.

Harry fell back, pulling Draco on top of him. They snogged sloppily while their hands roamed. Harry's already snug jeans grew even tighter as he grabbed Draco's arse and pulled him closer. Draco took the hint, grinding his hips into Harry's. After a good bit, Harry broke the kiss.

"Oh, you have to stop."

But Draco's hips continued to push into Harry's at a frantic pace.

"Can't. Can't stop. Cumming. Oh, Harry." He dropped his head into the crook of Harry's neck.

Harry followed very shortly after, with a satisfied moan.

Labored breathing in one another's ears was the only sounds they made for a while. Harry felt lips on his neck, while a tongue gently licked at it. Draco's light kisses made their way to Harry's jaw, and finally to his lips. Then they came to their senses.

Draco leaned up on his elbows. "I have to go." He quickly got off the couch and, turning away from Harry, cast a Scourgify on his pants and trousers. He slipped on his shoes and began walking toward the entrance.

"Wait," Harry called. "Wait." He jumped up and followed. "You don't have to leave."

"Yes, I do. I've behaved horribly. I didn't stop when you asked me to stop. I never did have much self control when it came to you."

"Please don't go. I'm –

Suddenly, the fireplace whooshed to life. Clive stepped through, catching Harry and Draco in their moment.

"What the fuck is going on?" he asked.

"Why are you here?" Harry demanded. "I told you I never wanted to see you again."

"You weren't serious. I waited until I thought you'd calmed down so we could talk reasonably. Who's _this_?"

Draco, who had his back to the fireplace, turned. When he did, Clive got a better view of Harry. He didn't miss the wet spot on the front of his trousers.

"Are you cheating on me?"

"No. We broke up. Get out." Harry wanted to finish his conversation with Draco. He needed Clive out of there.

Clive pointed to Harry's trousers. "It sure looks like you were cheating. Or were you looking at porn again?" he snickered.

"Clive, I meant what I said before. We're through, and I don't want to see you again unless it's to pick up your things."

Clive sighed. "I forgive you, Harry." He turned to Draco. "Now, if you'll excuse us, Harry and I need to talk."

"Of course," Draco tipped his head. "I was under the wrong impression. I didn't mean to–

"Whatever," Clive interrupted, waving his hand dismissively at Draco. "It's not the first time Harry's been a bad boy."

While Harry was fuming, Draco quickly left for the kitchen to retrieve his things. Not wanting another clash in the sitting room, he walked out the front door without another word.

Meanwhile, Harry began to rail into Clive.

"A bad boy? You make me sound like a child."

"Well, you act like a child. The moment I turn my back, you go out and find some boy toy to play with. And you could even keep from cumming in your pants, like some pathetic school boy."

"Only because he turned me on more than you ever do anymore."

Clive rolled his eyes. "You know I'm the best fuck you've ever had."

While what Clive said was true in the physical sense, there was no passion between them, and hadn't been for a time. But Harry was surprised by how aroused he was by Draco, even before they started snogging. Just hearing the passion in his voice as he spoke about his career and food in general, stirred something in Harry he hadn't felt in a long time.

"There's more to making love than knowing how to move your dick well," Harry said. "I was serious about breaking up with you. I'm not happy. You're not happy. And I don't know why we're still together."

Clive stood in disbelief. He never had anyone break up with him before. He was always the one who got bored with a relationship and moved on.

"You can't be serious."

"I am. I'm sorry."

"You're tossing me aside for that nobody?"

"I'm not tossing you aside. I'm breaking up with you because I'm tired of you trying to control and change me."

"For the better." Clive took a step toward Harry, caressing his face. "You have so much potential. I just want you to be the best wizard you can be."

His anger gradually subsiding, Harry told him, "I think _I_ should be the one to determine whether or not I'm the best wizard I can be."

After a pause, Clive questioned, "You're really turning me loose?"

"I'm afraid so. We simply don't work anymore." Harry covered Clive's hands with his own. "I don't want to fight. I'd like to part as friends. Please understand."

Sighing heavily, Clive could see it was a losing battle. The days of riding the Chosen One's coattails were over.

"Your loss," he chuckled.

"It might be," Harry tried to smile. "But it's what I want."

They released one another and stepped back.

"It won't take me long to gather my things."

Harry couldn't help feeling a little bit bad about tossing Clive out. On the other hand, he was now free to pursue Draco. If Draco was interested. The fact that he had snuck out in the middle of Clive's tirade didn't bode well for Harry's chances, however.

While Clive walked about the flat with a bottomless bag, Harry went into his kitchen hoping the business card for Kiss the Cook was still there. He was relieved to find it.

After gathering his things, Clive made one last appeal.

"I could try to be less controlling."

"I can't change your nature any more than you can change mine. We need to find more suitable partners instead."

Shrugging, Clive sighed. "I tried. See you around kid." His lack of sentiment only served to fuel Harry's convictions that breaking up with Clive was the right thing to do.

As soon as he left, Harry reset the wards around his floo to prevent Clive from having access again. Days later, he realized more than just Clive's things were missing. In his opinion, it was a small price to pay.


	4. Chapter 4

***Well, I've got nothing better to do than post and write today, as my area is in the middle of a huge snowstorm. Expecting up to two feet!**

 **Ashinia- I love it, Clive the Controller.**

 **hotflower901, Ichigogalaxy, IchiNaruSunshine, Zatsune D. LawLuFan- you can rest as ease about Clive. He'll be mentioned throughout, but I don't think we'll see him again. And as far as what he stole– he didn't steal the most important thing, Harry's heart lol**

 **Thanks to Ann10155, KatieMarrie, littlesprout, and cassy1994 for also reviewing! Thanks to everyone who added this to alerts and favorites!**

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oOo

Too busy with Auror duties, Harry didn't get a chance to try and contact Draco until several days later. He floo called the catering business and spoke to a receptionist. He was told that Draco was booked solid for the following three months. He got the feeling Draco was avoiding him.

"Either Mr. McGill or Mr. Barlow would be happy to provide private lessons. They are all equally trained and talented."

Harry doubted it. "I'm sure they are. But I've built a rapport with D–Mr. Malfoy. I would really prefer to work with him."

"I'm sorry Mr. Potter. Mr. Malfoy doesn't have any open spots for private lessons until the end of March."

Harry sighed, knowing he was getting the runaround.

"All right."

"Would you like to sign up with one of the other gentlemen?" the receptionist asked.

"No, thank you."

"Please do call back if you change your mind."

Ron walked into the office as he was ending the floo call.

"Oi, I haven't seen you in a couple of days."

"Yeah, Kingsley had me down in the archive room doing research."

"I never heard how your cooking lesson went. Did you and Clive make something spicy?" Ron wiggled his eyebrows as he sat down, leaning forward to hear Harry's story.

"We broke up."

"What?"

"Come on, Ron, I know you're hardly gutted over it. You and Hermione were never keen on me dating him."

"We just didn't like the way he was always bossing you around."

"Me neither."

"How did he take it?"

Harry leaned back in his chair. "At first, we argued. He hated the idea of us cooking together. He wanted to go out to a posh restaurant. Only the best for Clive," Harry said sarcastically.

"You're well rid of him," Ron told him. "But does that mean you won't be needing that cooking lesson?"

"Oh, I used it."

"By yourself? Not very romantic."

Harry unsuccessfully willed himself not to blush. Ron picked up on it right away.

"All right, spill it. What happened? Who did you cook with?"

"Just me and the chef," said Harry. "And since there were two meals, I invited him to eat with me."

"And?"

"And . . . we talked while we ate. Then we had some wine in the sitting room. He told me about the catering business and all sorts of foods. I really learned a lot. He was very knowledgeable. And . . . fit." Harry paused. "Then I made a pass at him."

"Blimey, right after giving Clive the boot?"

"Emotionally, Clive and I have been apart for a long time."

"So, what did this chef bloke do?"

"He kissed me, and we fooled around on the sofa," Harry grinned.

Shaking his head with a smile, Ron chuckled, "Lucky dog. Don't get me wrong, I know I could never do any better than Hermione. And I would never do anything to risk what I have with her. But I envy you a little bit, being free to play the field again."

"Envy me? I wish I could find what the two of you have."

"You will. Most wizard don't get married until they're thirty nowadays. You've got time."

"Yeah," Harry sighed. "But I want it now. And, maybe it's too early to tell, but I think . . . I felt a connection with, um, the chef, that I never would have thought possible."

Harry certainly wasn't exaggerating. If anyone had told him years ago, he'd be developing romantic feelings for Draco Malfoy, he would have hexed them into next week.

"Wow, I haven't seen you this mooney-eyed in a long time. Are you going to see him again?"

"I'm trying. I've called the catering business. I couldn't talk to him, though. The receptionist told me that he was booked solid for three months when I tried to acquire his services again."

"Bummer, mate."

"I'm not giving up yet," Harry said. "I think he might have felt the same, but Clive scared him off. I just need to find a way to talk to him."

"Wow, I can't believe you finally got rid of that wanker."

"He wasn't all bad," Harry defended. "He knew how to have a good time. He just wasn't good at give and take. Speaking of taking, I think he nicked some of my things when he gathered his own up."

"You mean he stole from you after everything you bought him already? He really was a wanker. What are you going to do?"

"It's only stuff. I don't care about that. If it's the price of my freedom, I'm glad to pay."

Ron scratched his chin in thought, while Harry gazed out the window. Neither was really seeing anything as they were deep in their own minds. It was silent for several minutes until another Auror walked into the office.

"Well, I'd better get these lists to Kingsley," Harry said. "Our usual Friday night out at the Leaky Cauldron?"

"Yeah, sure," Ron smiled. "But can we make it a bit later? I have an errand to run after work."

"Sure. How about seven?"

"Great."

Harry left without seeing the huge grin on Ron's face. It wasn't often he interfered with his friend's love life. But he had gotten idea he simply couldn't pass up.

oOo

"Hello, may I help you?" the receptionist at _Kiss the Cook_ smiled.

Ron held out his identification. "Official Auror business."

"Oh. _Oh_ , Mr. Weasley. I mean, Auror Weasley. I didn't realize it was you. What sort of official business do you have with us?"

"I've gotten a report of some stolen property by a customer of yours."

"A customer of ours reported theft? We haven't received any complaint."

"Well, I have, and I've come to investigate. I need to see the chef that gave Harry Potter a private cooking lesson last Saturday night."

"Oh, of course. But . . . I assure you, he hasn't stolen anything from Mr. Potter. We have the utmost respect for him."

"I still need to speak with your chef."

The receptionist quickly left the room, and Ron took the time to glance about. There were certificates, photographs of food platters, and some humorous sayings about food hanging on the wall. On the counter were business cards, class schedules, and a catering menu. Ron picked one up and pocketed it as the door opened.

He turned around to see Draco Malfoy coming through, looking perturbed, followed by the receptionist.

"You." The former Slytherin narrowed his eyes. "Why are you harassing me? I'm in the middle of a class. What's this all about?"

"Uh, you're a chef?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes. Now what is this about? Are you accusing me of being a thief? I've been nothing but a simple law abiding citizen for years."

"Well, I . . . I'm sort of confused. Were you the chef who turned up at Harry's flat for a private cooking lesson?"

Suddenly, Draco seemed nervous. "Can we not talk here?" he requested, wishing to avoid the prying ears of the receptionist who took up her place behind the desk.

"Yeah, sure."

Draco led him through another door, into a small office.

"Is Harry accusing me of stealing from him?"

"What? Oh. No, not really. Actually, not at all. He's pretty sure it was Clive. Did you meet him?"

"Narcissistic fellow with a condescending attitude? Yes, unfortunately."

Ron had to keep from smirking when Malfoy's description fit himself perfectly. Come to think of it, Clive was a bit like Malfoy in some ways.

"Anyway, um, I think I've made a mistake," admitted Ron. He shook his head. "I can't believe he made all that shite up."

"Made all what up?" Draco asked. He wasn't in the habit of holding conversations with Weasleys, but his curiosity was piqued.

"I guess Harry was feeling a bit down after his break up. He made up some story about another bloke. Uh, forget I came here."

"If you knew I hadn't stolen anything, why _did_ you come here?"

Ron chuckled, embarrassed, "I was hoping to convince the bloke who was making Harry walk on air give him another chance. But I guess there is no bloke."

"Walk on air?"

"He must be a better actor than I could have imagined. He sure _seemed_ like he was . . ." Ron was mumbling to himself.

"He was what?"

"Smitten." Too late, Ron thought better of giving Malfoy too much information. "So, this wasn't truly an official Auror visit. I, uh, didn't mean to take you away from your class. Nobody has to know I was here. Especially Harry."

The last thing Ron needed was for Malfoy to file a report against him, citing harassment or intimidation.

To his surprise, Malfoy nodded. "Right. As long as you don't go spreading around that I'm a thief."

Ron pretended to lock his lips with a key. "It's forgotten." He regarded Malfoy for a moment, biting his lip. "You didn't . . . nah," he laughed. "I must be barmy just for thinkin' it."

Ron began to walk toward the door. "But for curiosity's sake, did you really go to Harry's flat to cook a meal with him?"

"Yes."

"And you didn't kill each other?"

"Not once. Some of us have matured over the years," Malfoy said, implying that Ron hadn't.

Ron supposed he couldn't blame him. It did appear that Ron was only there to give him a rough time.

He left, disappointed. He was disappointed that Harry felt he had to fabricate a story so Ron wouldn't feel sorry for him. He was disappointed that he couldn't help his friend get together with the hot chef he'd supposedly made a pass at.

Ron stopped at home to change out of robes into something more casual, giving Hermione a kiss on the cheek before heading out to the Leaky Cauldron. As much as Ron and Hermione loved each other, they spent their Friday nights apart. He normally went off with Harry, and she got to sit in a quiet home and read with a cup or two of tea.

Harry waved from his tiny booth when Ron walked into the pub.

"Sorry. Have you been waiting long?" Ron smiled apologetically.

"Less than ten minutes. I took the liberty of ordering you a butter beer. What errand did you have to run?"

"Oh . . . I went to the market to get Hermione some tea. She was nearly out," Ron lied.

Harry nodded. "I'm glad this week is over. I hate doing research. Although, it's going to be odd with Clive out of the house. I can't remember the last time I spent so much time alone."

"Yeah, too bad about that chef bloke," Ron said, hoping Harry would confess that he'd made the whole thing up.

"I told you, I'm not giving up yet. I may not be able to reach him through the catering company, but I still might be able to find out where he lives."

"Harry, maybe you ought to forget about that and put yourself out there again. You know, go to some pubs, let Hermione finally set you up with her friend in Muggle Artifacts."

Harry shook his head. "Not until I've exhausted all attempts at reaching–

"Reaching who? You never did tell me his name," Ron challenged.

"Uh," Harry pursed his lips. "His name isn't important."

Shaking his head, Ron reached across the table for Harry's wrist. "There is no chef, is there. I mean, beyond one coming to show you how to cook a filet."

"Yes, there is," insisted Harry, pulling his arm away. "Just because I don't want to tell you all the details, doesn't mean it's not true. And stop looking at me like I'm a lost puppy."

"I just want you to be happy. You have to move on from Clive."

"I am. Or, I'm trying. You wouldn't understand. You and Hermione have known each other forever. Before you ever got together, you saw the best of each other. And the worst. And you _still_ fell in love. I want that too."

"I know you do, but– wait, what did you say?"

"Which part? Aren't you listening?" Harry pouted.

"We'd seen the worst of each other, and we still fell in love," Ron repeated quietly.

"Yes. That's what people do. They accept the best and worst of their partner. I couldn't do that with Clive because he couldn't accept _my_ faults."

"And you think this new bloke could?"

"I don't know. I'd like a chance to find out."

"And what about his faults? Could you get past those? Do you even know what they are?" questioned Ron.

Nodding, Harry replied, "I think I could."

"Tell me, Harry, is everything you told me about last Saturday true?"

"I swear."

Ron sipped his butter beer and furrowed his brow.

"I've got to go to the loo," Harry said as he stood. "Order me fish and chips when the server comes by. And another butter beer."

While Harry was gone, Ron pursed his lips, trying to put everything together like a case. Keeping to the facts as he knew them, Ron was slowly forming a likely scenario. He wasn't sure he liked it. In fact, he was pretty sure he hated it.

"Hello, luv, what can I get you?" the server winked.

"Oh, um, a couple orders of fish and chips, and two more butter beers."

"Sure thing."

Ron sighed. In his head, he ticked off what he knew. First of all, Harry had definitely broken up with Clive. Second, Harry claimed he had a tryst with a personal chef. A man whose name Harry refused to give. Third, _Malfoy_ was the chef who gave Harry his private lesson. And, perhaps most damning of all, Malfoy had referred to Harry by his first name.

"Ugh," Ron groaned. "Is that what Harry meant when he said people accept the best and worst of each other? But, the worst of Malfoy is pretty fucking bad."

"What was that?" Harry asked as he sat down.

"Huh?"

"You were mumbling to yourself. Are you all right Ron? You've been acting strangely."

"Yeah, yeah. I, um, need to tell you something. Then I need to ask you something. And then, I need you to be perfectly honest with me."

Harry frowned. "Of course, Ron. But, you seem so serious. Are you sure everything is all right?"

"I guess that depends on how you answer me."

"Oh." Harry waited for Ron to continue.

"So, I did something you probably will be angry about," Ron started. "I paid a visit to that catering company."

"You what?"

"I thought I could help you. It didn't pan out the way I thought it would."

Harry paled a bit, not knowing how Ron's tale was going to end.

"What I want to ask you," Ron went on, "is . . ." He suddenly got cold feet about confronting Harry regarding Malfoy. Instead he took the menu out of his jacket pocket. "Do you think they're decent caterers? I was thinking about having our Twelfth Night get together catered."

"Seriously?" Harry exhaled. "I thought you were going to ask something important."

"Well, this _is_ important. This is the first Twelfth Night party Hermione and I are hosting together. I want it to be great."

Harry shrugged. "Judging by the food I had last weekend, I'd say they're excellent caterers."

"Good. Great," Ron smiled, or tried to. He felt awful for lying to Harry. But he was afraid he'd feel even worse if Harry told him Malfoy was the man with whom he was enamored. There was still hope that Harry had made the whole thing up in order to feel better about losing Clive, even if Clive was a complete wanker.

oOo


	5. Chapter 5

*** Ron might seem a little o/c in this chapter but remember that he always has Harry's best interests at heart, even if he doesn't quite understand him.**

 **Ashinia- Draco gets a chance to explain himself, at least to someone, in this chapter**

 **Skyeleaf1956- actually, Ron completely made that up to cover his own arse lol**

 **Thanks also to SkylerKnight, cassy1994, WitchRavenFox, Enigmus, yukino76, XPO787, and hotflower901 for reading and reviewing!**

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oOo

Saturday morning Harry woke, alone, as he had the past week. Though he was a bit lonely, he was glad not to have to cater to Clive's will anymore. It used to start as soon as they'd get up. They ate whatever Clive wanted for breakfast. Clive chose Harry's clothing for the day. After work, they would eat at a restaurant of Clive's choosing. The times Harry tried to assert his own preferences, Clive pouted until he got his own way. It had simply gotten easier to give in to Clive right away.

He stretched and yawned.

"I'm going to have French toast for breakfast this morning," he said to himself.

He chose his own clothes–a pair of older, worn out jeans, and a jumper with a stretched out neck. Something of which Clive would never have approved. He vowed to himself to donate all the clothing Clive made him buy, except for a few things, like the jumper he wore the week before.

Instead of cooking, Harry walked down the street to a small Muggle cafe for his breakfast. He took a seat next to the window so he could watch people walking by.

"Good morning," The server smiled. "What can I get you?"

Glancing at the menu, Harry replied, "The French toast, please. And a cup of coffee."

"Would you like fruit on that? The French toast, not the coffee," she laughed.

"Please."

Harry closed up his menu and handed it to her. It was ridiculous how free he felt simply ordering a meal of his own choosing. Clive liked to go to French or Italian restaurants and order for both of them. Half the time Harry wasn't sure what he'd be getting, as the menus were in another language. It was just one more way for Clive to keep the upper hand.

He sipped his coffee and stared out the window. The day was overcast, yet didn't put a damper on Harry's mood. He resolved to make another effort to get through to Draco at the catering business that day. And if that didn't work, he was prepared to visit Malfoy Manor and speak with Narcissa Malfoy. She had been grateful at the trials and offered Harry an olive branch on behalf of the Malfoy family. He thought she might be receptive to a friendship between him and Draco. She needn't know more than that. It wasn't his first choice, but he'd do what he had to do.

A plate of thickly sliced French toast covered in strawberries and bananas was placed in front of him just as he saw a head of light blond hair walking toward the cafe.

His heart sped up. What luck that Draco happened by, in Harry's neighborhood of all places. As he passed by, Harry waved to get his attention, but Draco appeared lost in thought and didn't notice.

Quickly, Harry got up and dashed for the door.

"Oi, wait, you've got to pay," the cashier called to him.

"I'll be right back in. I promise," he called back.

By the time Harry got out of the cafe and looked around, Draco was a block away.

"Draco!" He began to run. "Draco, wait!"

Draco stopped in his tracks and slowly turned around.

Out of breath a bit, Harry smiled. "I thought that was you. I've been trying to get in touch with you all week."

"Yes, I know."

"Why haven't you taken my calls? I'd like to talk to you."

Draco hesitated, looking in the direction he was originally walking.

"Please," Harry said. "Will you sit down with me? I only want to talk. Then you can leave, and I won't bother you again, if that's what you want."

"All right," Draco nodded.

A few drops of rain began to fall, and they entered the cafe in the nick of time to avoid a downpour.

Harry led him to his table and the cooling French toast. Spotting his waitress, he waved her over.

"Can I get another cup of coffee for my friend here?"

"Make that tea, please," said Draco.

"Would you like to see a menu?" she asked.

"No, thank you. I've eaten."

Harry glanced around carefully before surreptitiously pointing his wand at the plate and whispering a warming spell.

Draco's eyes grew large. "Are you mad? This is a Muggle restaurant."

"Nobody saw," Harry chuckled. "I do it all the time."

Raising eyebrows, Draco asked, "You do? Aren't you worried about getting caught?"

"Clive always used to say Muggles only see what they want to see. It's true." Harry cut into the toast and took a bite. "This is delicious. Want to try it?"

"No thank you."

For a few minutes, Draco watched Harry eat in silence.

Aware that he had Draco's attention, Harry made sure to be as neat and precise as possible. He didn't want to dribble syrup all over his chin or anything. He was careful to catch the sticky sweetness on his tongue before it dripped.

When he looked up, Draco was staring, his mouth agape.

"What?" asked Harry. "Do I have something on my face?"

Slowly, Draco shook his head. "No, I, uh . . ."

Harry put down his fork and sipped his coffee. "So, why have you been avoiding me? You're not really booked for the next three months, are you?"

"I am very busy."

"Too busy to give me a few minutes of your time?"

"To what end?"

"Oh, I don't know, to talk about what happened between us?"

"That was a mistake."

"Why?"

Draco sighed. "Do I really have to spell it out? You're the Chosen One, I'm a Death Eater. It just wouldn't work."

"Is that your only objection?" Harry asked.

"Yes. No. I don't know. All I know is that I shouldn't have accepted your invitation to eat with you. I shouldn't have drunk so much wine. And I _absolutely_ shouldn't have," he lowered his voice, "kissed you."

"If you hadn't, then I would have kissed you. Tell me you didn't enjoy it."

Draco glanced out the window. Of course he enjoyed it. But that wasn't the point.

"You can't tell me you didn't enjoy it, because you did," Harry smirked. "Until Clive walked in."

"That's beside the point."

"No, it's exactly the point. We spent an entire evening cooking together, talking and doing some of the best snogging I've done in a long time. I can't remember the last time I had better. Certainly not with Clive. Not for a long time. All _I_ know, is that we keep crossing paths. I don't know if I believe in fate or gods, but I can't help recalling what you said that night. Something keeps bringing us together, and I think it's about time we start paying attention."

"I am paying attention," said Draco. "I'm simply seeing it differently than you."

"But you're the one who said fate brings people together."

"I also said that it should be effortless."

"You're the one making it difficult," grumbled Harry. "And I thought Clive was difficult," he whispered to himself.

"Because I don't want to settle for–

" _Settle_?" Harry frowned. He leaned back in his chair. "Oh."

Draco shook his head. "That's not exactly what I meant."

"No, I get it." Harry wasn't very hungry anymore. He waved for the server to bring him the bill.

"Look, Harry, I'm still getting on my feet with this new business. I'm very busy. And I told you I wasn't looking for anything . . . serious. But–"

"I said I get it, Malfoy."

As soon as the server came by, Harry snatched the bill and stood.

"Tea's on me. I won't bother you again." With that, he walked to the register, paid, and left.

From where he was still seated, Draco watched Harry walk past the window back toward his home. Nothing he said came out the way he meant it. The worst was that Harry called him Malfoy again. Any progress they'd made in building any sort of civil relationship was wiped away in a single word.

oOo

Harry stomped home angrily, muttering to himself.

"Who does he think he is? He doesn't want to settle. _He_ doesn't want to settle?"

He noticed people giving him strange looks, but he didn't care. He kept grumbling the whole way home. Slamming the door shut behind him, Harry plopped down into the sofa.

Unable to get Draco's words out of his head, Harry's anger began to subside, taken over by melancholy. If he was being honest, he wasn't angry anymore. He was hurt. Then again, honesty usually does hurt.

The fireplace whooshed to life as Ron's face appeared.

"Oi, Harry. Watcha doing? I thought we were supposed to meet at Tomes and Scrolls. They were nice enough to let me use their floo."

"Oh, I forgot."

"What's wrong?"  
"I don't feel much like shopping," Harry told him.

"I'm not doing this by myself. Get your arse through here."

Harry sighed heavily and stepped through when Ron moved out of the way. Ron thanked the shop owner for allowing them to use the floo. He also felt obligated to purchase something.

"Do you have a list," asked Ron.

Shrugging, Harry said, "Well, now that I don't have to buy anything for Clive, my list is a lot shorter."

"You're not thinking about getting back together with him, are you?"

"No," Harry scoffed.

"Then what's wrong? You're moping and look like you lost your puppy." Ron paused. "Oh, jeez, don't tell me this is about your crush on that chef."

"It's not a crush. It's nothing." Harry mindlessly picked up items in the shop without taking notice of what he was doing.

"What happened?"

"He's not interested, all right?"

"Then he must be daft."

Harry sighed yet again. "What's wrong with me, Ron? Why can't I find someone right for me?"

"There's nothing wrong with you. You're the best," Ron said sincerely. "What do you think of this for Hermione?" Ron tried to change the subject by picking up a miniature figurine of a house elf that held several quills and an ink pot.

Harry shook his head and took it out of Ron's hand. "Absolutely not."

As they walked around the stationary shop, Harry put a book of origami parchments for Hermione into his own basket. He helped Ron choose a more elegant holder for her quills and ink. But Harry didn't really think Ron needed anything more than the beautiful necklace he had already gotten for her at the auction.

After stopping at Honeydukes, then Dervishes and Banges for gifts for Arthur, the pair apparated to Diagon Alley for the rest of their shopping. While they walked down the Alley, Harry reached into his bag from Honeydukes for a mini cauldron cake.

"I wonder if he knows how to make these," he said to himself.

"Who?" asked Ron.

"Who else?" Harry shrugged sheepishly.

"Your _chef_ friend," Ron rolled his eyes. He was still in denial that Malfoy was very possibly that 'friend'. There was always a chance Harry made the whole thing up. At least that was what Ron was hoping.

"Anyway, I bet he could make a thumping good one," Harry said. "He's so talented. His business is very important to him and he works very hard. Not at all like Clive, who only wanted to ride on my coattails."

"Yeah, I get that. There are plenty of blokes that work hard, though. How about those for Ginny?" Ron pointed to a pair of dangly earrings with rhinestones in a shop window.

"For Ginny? Are you mad? That's not her style at all." Harry pointed to another pair, small light green faceted stones hanging from a thin silver wire. "I think she'd like those. They're even her birthstone."

"Yeah, they're pretty. How do you know so much about Ginny?"

"Did you forget we dated for a bit? I suppose I paid attention."

After saying that, Harry was reminded of his conversation with Draco at breakfast. He sighed again.

Ignoring Harry's somber mood, Ron dragged him into the shop to purchase the earrings. Harry ended up getting Ginny a pin to match. He also found something for Molly and George. Harry didn't exchange gifts with the older Weasley children and their families, so he was essentially finished with his holiday shopping, except for Teddy. And Ron. He would have to go out on his own for that.

Ron dragged Harry to three more shops before declaring himself finally finished. And by the time they were ready to take a break, Ron had heard enough of Harry's pity party.

"You've convinced me, all right?" Ron said, after yet another comment about Harry's _amazing_ chef. "If he's really all that, stop talking and do something about it."

"I tried."

"Have you really?" Ron was still skeptical.

"Yes. I had breakfast with him this morning."  
"Oh."

"Well. I had breakfast, he had tea. And that was when he said he didn't want to settle for me."

"What?" Ron stopped in his tracks.

"Fuck, I didn't mean to tell you that."

"He said he'd be settling for you? He's out of his fucking mind. He'd be lucky to have you spit on him, much less date him."

Harry stared at Ron, then narrowed his eyes. "How would you know? He might be brilliant."

"It doesn't matter. I know you. And _no one_ would ever be settling if they chose you."

"Maybe I ought to try enjoying being single for a while."

He wasn't fooling Ron, though. He may have been happy to be rid of Clive, but he wasn't enjoying the thought of spending Christmas and New Year's Eve alone. Or worse, watching everyone else happy with their partners.

At the end of the day, the pair parted ways. Harry stopped into Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes to pick up a toy for Teddy, then went home to his empty flat. He spent the rest of the weekend clearing out anything that remotely reminded him of Clive. The only things he kept were three bottles of wine, as he suspected they were expensive and high quality. He planned to bring two to the Burrows on Christmas Day. He held out hope that perhaps he'd be able to share the last one with Draco, at some point.

oOo

Come Monday morning, Harry showed up at work as usual. Both he and Ron completely avoided the subjects of Harry's love life, Clive, and dating in general. Harry had no idea that Ron had spent much of his weekend stewing over the way his friend had been treated by the "mystery" chef.

Halfway through the day, an owl delivered two envelopes to their office.

"What's this?" Ron asked as Harry tossed him one.

"Looks like an invitation."

They opened the silver and gold envelopes, releasing a burst of confetti which disappeared shortly after. Harry read aloud.

"On behalf of the Minister of Magic, the Ministry would like to show appreciation for a job well done by all its employees. You are hereby invited to attend a New Year's Eve Gala. Food and drink served from nine o'clock p.m. to one o'clock a.m. Dress robes and gowns encouraged."

Ron smiled. "Isn't that nice of them? Free food and drink all night."

"I thought we were going to spend a quiet night at your flat with Hermione."

"Yeah, but that was before we had anywhere to go."

"I don't want to go," Harry told him.

"Why not?"

"Everyone will be coupled up but me."

"Oh, quit your whinging already," Ron said, taking Harry by surprise. "It's a party. And you're certainly not the only single employee in the Ministry. Come and have fun."

Harry could hardly argue with Ron. He was feeling sorry for himself and he knew it.

"Yeah, all right." He chuckled. "Maybe I'll let Hermione set me up with that bloke in Muggle Artifacts."

"That's the spirit."

oOo

Ron put on a good face for Harry, but inside he was livid. How dare Malfoy (if that's who Harry was actually moping over) turn him down? And especially make Harry feel like he wasn't worthy. Well, Ron really blamed Clive for most of that. Still, Malfoy should have considered himself lucky that Harry was interested in him.

After work, Ron took another side trip to _Kiss the Cook_.

"Oh, hello Auror Weasley," the receptionist smiled.

"I want to talk to Malfoy."

"Oh my. Is something wrong?"

"Damn straight. Tell him to get his arse out here now."

The woman quickly got up. "I'll see if he's free," she mumbled before walking through the door.

"What is it now?" Malfoy asked impatiently. "I thought the matter of the stolen property was settled."

"I'm not here about that. Where do you get off telling Harry he's not good enough for you?"

"What? I never said that. Wait, he told you . . . what happened?"

Having his suspicions confirmed, Ron forged ahead.

"Yeah. Harry tells me everything. Including what you said about not settling for him."

"But I didn't say that," Draco protested. "I said I didn't want to settle for being someone's rebound." He paused a moment. "Actually, I don't think I ever finished that sentence. He interrupted me, then got angry and left."

"So, you don't think he's not good enough for you?"

"Not good enough for _me_? Are you barmy?"

"Then, why aren't you interested? Not that I'm complaining, mind you."

"I– it's . . ." Draco sighed. "It would never work. He's only been broken up a week and I just happened to be there at the time. He's the Chosen One and I'm . . . well, you know what I am."

Ron pursed his lips. He was beginning to see the big picture. Harry had it all wrong. "Harry really is through with Clive."

"He mentioned the man at least three times during our very short breakfast meeting. He's definitely not out of Harry's thoughts yet."

"They did date for almost a year. Between you and me, I'm glad the prick is out of Harry's life."

Draco frowned. "What are you even doing here? I'm certain you think I'm a prick as well."

Ron nodded. "Yeah. But Harry doesn't. Quite frankly, I'm tired of him whinging about how you won't give him a chance. On the other hand, I haven't heard one mention of him missing Clive."

Biting his lip, Draco turned away. He couldn't believe what Ron was saying. Neither could he believe that Ron was saying it.

"There's more to it than that, and he knows it."

"Whatever it is, he doesn't seem to care." Ron paused and shook his head. "Well, you do with that what you will. But let me warn you, if you even _think_ about harming one hair on Harry's head, I won't think twice about using an Unforgivable on you."

Ron strode out of the office, leaving Draco to ponder the situation. Christmas would be in three days, and Draco needed to spend the next two days making platters and puddings. He couldn't possibly bother Harry on Christmas day. Besides, he was planning to spend the day with his mother. After that, the catering business was equally busy preparing for New Year's Eve celebrations. Draco didn't know when he was supposed to have time to act on the information Ron gave him.

"Mr. Malfoy," the receptionist pulled him out of his reverie. "Your class is ready for you."

Draco sighed. Even if he did find the time to get together with Harry to explain himself, there as no guarantee that Harry would still be inclined to listen. But after what Ron told him, he had to try.

oOo


	6. Chapter 6

***I only have one more chapter planned after this. This ended up a very short fic. But thanks to everyone reading and adding to faves & alerts! Thanks especially to Ashinia, Linda, KatieMarrie, cassy1994, Zatsune D. LawLuFan, yukino76, antonia45456, hotflower901 and CaelynAilene for taking the time to review! I appreciate it so much.**

* * *

oOo

Harry spent Christmas with the Weasley family as usual. It helped to take his mind off his troubled love life. Seeing Bill with his perfect little family stung a bit, but he reminded himself that Bill and Fleur were older than him.

He made plans to spend the next day with Ginny, who was also going through a dry spell. They stayed up late at the Burrow Christmas night getting pissed and complaining about their respective lack of companionship. Having a wicked hangover, Harry spent most of Boxing Day in bed. He was barely coherent when he'd received an owl early in the day, and he nearly missed his late lunch date with Ginny.

On Friday he visited George at his shop. When he'd stopped in before Christmas for Teddy's gift, George had been much too busy to show Harry any of the new items. George was finally beginning to let go of the guilt he had over the success of his business without Fred, and he was able to reminisce with Harry about the high jinks they got into while at Hogwarts. Unfortunately, talking about Hogwarts only brought Harry's mind back to Draco.

Finally, he arranged to catch up with Teddy Tonks at Andromeda's on that Sunday. The boy was able to keep Harry's mind sufficiently occupied, so that day, Harry didn't have time to throw his own personal pity party.

But when Monday rolled around again, Harry was back to his glum mood.

"How was your weekend?" questioned Ron with a smile as he walked into the office.

Harry shrugged. "Okay, I guess."

"Oh, only okay?"

"Well, maybe a bit better than that. I saw Teddy yesterday. He loved the Muggle Magic Tricks I bought him."

"How old is the boy now?"

"He'll be six in April. He looks so much like Remus," Harry sighed. "I don't know how Andromeda keeps up with him. He played nonstop."

"So . . . no word from your chef then?" asked Ron tentatively.

Harry paused to give Ron a look. "He's real, Ron."

"I didn't say he wasn't."

"You implied it before." Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "But, no, I haven't heard from him. Nor do I expect to."

"Sorry mate." Though Ron felt badly for Harry getting his feelings hurt, he was relieved Malfoy thought better of trying to get together with Harry. It would sting for a little while, but Harry would get over it and move on. Ron was certain, in the long run, Malfoy would have hurt Harry far more if they began a relationship. "Maybe Hermione's friend will be at the New Year's Eve Gala."

"What have I got to lose?"

Later, when Hermione came down to join them for lunch, Harry finally mentioned that he might be open to an introduction to the bloke in Muggle Artifacts. But he was adamant that it not be set up as a date. He was willing to talk to the man. That was _all_.

oOo

Two days later, when Harry walked into the large lobby of the Ministry of Magic, he was amazed at the way it was transformed. The ceiling was spelled to look like a dark, starry night. Round tables draped in black cloth were arranged about the room to allow an area for dancing. Each table had a centerpiece of sparkly gold roses and balloons that rose high above. It was festive, yet tasteful.

The band was set up along the side, and Harry wondered why on earth they needed so many instruments . At the moment, they were playing soft music while guests mingled.

He looked around and saw a man in an apron standing behind a long table serving small plates of food, Another two men stood behind a bar serving drinks of all sorts. Harry noticed them all wearing logos on their uniforms– a pair of bright red lips wearing a chef's cap.

Harry turned all the way around the room, spotting two more buffet tables covered in food. Behind one of them stood Draco. He was busy plating at an hors d'oeuvres station.

Heart beating faster, Harry had only taken one step toward the table when he heard his name being called.

"Oi, Harry," Ron waved from across the room, distracting him from Draco temporarily.

"Glad you showed," Ron said, when they met somewhere in the middle.

"Where's Hermione?"

"She went to get drinks already. Did you pick a table yet?"

"Not yet. I've just arrived myself."

"Let's grab this one," Ron said of the nearest one.

Harry followed and sat, realizing that from there, he couldn't see Draco at all. Perhaps it was for the best. Soon, Hermione joined them with two drinks in hand.

"Oh, Harry, I didn't get one for you."

"That's all right. I'll get one of my own when I grab some food."

He used the excuse to walk around the room and observe Draco as he quickly plated crackers and pâté, bacon wrapped scallops and something that resembled cups made of parchment.

Casually as he could manage, Harry approached Draco's table. He queued up behind a few others, then took a small plate when it was his turn. Most people simply moved on, but Harry stopped and stood there.

"Hello."

Draco looked up, doing a double take.

"Oh. Hello."

"You look nice."

Smirking, Draco replied, "I'm wearing an apron." He made up some more plates. Without looking back up at Harry he said, "You look rather dashing yourself."

Harry looked down at his ensemble. He was glad to have gotten his new dress robes at Madam Malkin's recently.

"Can I talk to you?" Harry requested.

"This isn't a very private place to have a conversation," Draco answered, giving furtive glances to the people taking plates. Some of them were lingering curiously.

"We could have had it in private if you had talked to me in the first place."

"As I recall, you are the one who ended our last conversation. And you didn't show up to Madam Puddifoot's , so I–

"What?" Harry frowned. "Why would I go to Madam Puddifoot's?"

"Didn't you get my owl? I sent a note."

Harry vaguely recalled an owl pecking at his window after Christmas. He thought he had either been dreaming or too drunk at the time.

"I, uh, no. I had a hangover and slept in that day. What did the note say?"

Draco hesitated. As long as Harry hadn't read it, Draco could still stop the growing fantasy in his mind that he and Harry could actually have some sort of relationship. But eventually, Harry would find the note and read it, and he'd know what a sentimental fool Draco was.

"I . . . invited you to tea on Boxing Day."

"But I thought you weren't interested in me. You didn't want to settle."

Acutely aware that people were now pausing to listen in, Draco offered, "Can I find you later? We have an audience. And I need to finish plating."

Although Harry was afraid he was being put off again, he agreed to let Draco finish his job so the pair could talk more privately later.

Stopping at the bar and another food table, Harry made his way back to the table he shared with his friends. There were four more people sitting down with them.

"Oh, Harry, I hope you don't mind," Hermione smiled. "I've invited a few people from Muggle Artifacts to joins us

Inwardly groaning, Harry smiled politely.

"Of course not, Hermione." He was kicking himself for agreeing to this.

Ron shot him an apologetic look while Hermione began the introductions.

"Harry, this is Winifred, Garrett, Ian and Connor."

They each nodded as she said their name. Harry was certain one of the men was the fellow Hermione was trying to set him up with. He wasn't sure which one, though.

After a while of talking, he figured out that Winifred and Garrett were married, leaving either Ian or Connor as the set up. Unfortunately, Hermione mentioned Harry's recent break up and Ian immediately spoke up, sympathizing with Harry's situation.

 _We have a winner_ , Harry thought.

"I'm recently single myself," Ian told him. "It's especially difficult to be alone during the holidays, isn't it?"

"Well, I have great friends," Harry said, "so I haven't been alone at all."

"But you know what I mean. Even tonight, all the people dancing and toasting one another. I'd be happy to make myself available if you're in need of a dancing partner," offered Ian.

"Um, thank you. I'm not much of a dancer."

For the next hour, Ian tried to come up with as many ways as he could to get in Harry's good books. And Harry came up with an equal number of excuses to avoid him.

Winifred and Garrett had left the table long ago to dance, and Connor had gone off looking for a suitable partner for himself. Ian volunteered to get a sampling of desserts for the table, leaving the trio of friends to talk amongst themselves.

"Harry, why are you being so difficult?" admonished Hermione. "Ian is perfectly charming."

"Then you date him. I'm not interested. It's not my fault the man can't take a hint."

"You're not still pining for Clive, are you?"

"No. I'm not thinking about him at all."

"You seem anxious or nervous," she said. "Are you waiting for someone? Is Clive supposed to show up?"

Harry let out a frustrated breath. "No. He's not. I wish everyone would just leave me _alone_."

He got up from the table and nearly walked into Draco.

"Does that include me?" he asked. He was no longer wearing an apron, but had donned dress robes. And he looked quite handsome.

"Thank Merlin. Are you here to take me away?"

Harry did his best to avoid the expressions on Ron, Hermione and the recently returned Ian's faces.

"If you wish," replied Draco. He turned on his heel and began walking away, confident that Harry would follow.

Harry gave a glance backward. Hermione and Ian's jaws were practically on the floor. Ron, on the other hand, appeared suspiciously unsurprised. Harry quickly caught up with Draco, who led him to a small set of round tables near the back of the room and a bit off to the side.

"We're staying?" asked Harry. He was a little disappointed.

"Minister Shacklebolt has invited us and our staff to join the festivities since the food has all been laid out."

Draco sat, prompting Harry to do the same. He spoke again before Harry had a chance.

"Before you ask your thousand questions, I have something to say. I think the look on your friends' faces is representative of everyone's reaction to the two of us being together. No one is going to readily accept our hero shacking up with a former Death Eater, no matter what my circumstances are now."

"Is that your only objection?"

Draco hesitated. "No."

"Then what else? Is it because I'm just an Auror now? Because I've turned away from celebrity and choose to live a simple, modest life? Is that what you don't want to settle for?"

"No. Not at all. I think you're confusing me with that other bloke. In fact, I didn't realize that I hadn't finished my thought that day at breakfast until Weasley came in accusing me of–

"Weasley? Ron? Ron came to see you?"

"Oh, I assumed he told you."

"No, he didn't." Harry looked back in the direction where he knew Ron was sitting, but couldn't see him through the crowd.

"Well, he made me realize that you had misunderstood what I was trying to say. I don't know why, but . . . he was helping me."

"I'll have to have a talk with him later. Go on. What did I misunderstand?"

"What I meant was that I didn't want to be a rebound. Perhaps it sounds arrogant, but I don't want to be second choice, or a convenient one."

"But–

"You had literally just broken up with your boyfriend when I turned up. And I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say I was probably the _last_ person you would have chosen to get involved with."

Harry sighed. He could see Draco's point. "You're right. I probably wouldn't have. You have to admit though, that we hadn't been enemies for a long time."

Draco nodded in agreement.

Harry continued. "You won me over that night. I know you weren't trying to, but you did. It wasn't because I wanted to replace Clive. It felt good to be free of him. Much better than I thought, or I would have broken up with him long ago. What can I do to convince you that it's you I'm interested in getting to know? Not the idea of you. Not to fill a void. If you turn me down, I'm not going to go after the next bloke I see. I'm certainly not going to hook up with the bloke Hermione has been throwing at me all evening."

"What about all the hateful things we said and did to each other in the past?"

"I'm not living in the past. I'm not that person any more. I believe that you're not quite the same person you were either. So, maybe we can start over."

"I don't know if that's possible," Draco told him. "Perhaps we can move forward instead."

A smile grew on Harry's face. "So . . . are you saying you're willing to give it a go?"

Draco chuckled. "You make it sound as though it's a hardship for me."

"Well, you fought me hard enough."

"Not because I didn't want . . . you. I did. I do. Very much. I was merely trying to protect myself. I've been hurt before."

They sat staring at one another for a moment, only brought back to reality by the noise of the crowd.

"They're counting down," Draco said.

"Nine . . . Eight . . . Seven . . ."

He looked down at the empty table. He hadn't thought to get champagne ahead of time.

"Six . . . Five . . ." the crowd continued. Harry and Draco both stood. Everything was moving too quickly to think.

"Four," Draco joined in.

"Three," said Harry.

"Two."

"Kiss me."

It was so loud, Harry couldn't hear a thing. All he was aware of was Draco's body, close to his and lips moving against his own. He pulled at Draco's shoulders, pulling him even closer. They snogged longer than what was customary for a New Year's kiss, but neither cared. If Harry had his way, they'd be snogging all night long.

Draco was the first to pull back. "Happy New Year, Harry."

"Happy New Year, Draco. I have a feeling this is going to be the best year yet."

He leaned in for another kiss but was stopped short by the expression on Draco's face. When he turned to see what caused the look of apprehension, several people, including Ron and Hermione, were standing there. Those nearby had paused to watch the unlikely couple as they celebrated the beginning of two thousand four. It was clear that when Hermione dragged Ron along to look for Harry, finding him in a lip lock with his former rival was the last thing she expected.

"Harry, what are you thinking?" she demanded.

"Well . . . I'm thinking of taking Draco back to my flat, stripping him down, and licking him everywhere my tongue will reach."

While she gasped, Ron and Draco blushed.

"I'm serious, Harry." Hermione's hands were on her hips.

"So am I."

"Hermione, luv, this is none of our business," Ron tried to steer her away. "Let them figure it out."

"That didn't seem to keep you out of our business before," Harry said. "By the way, thank you for that."

Harry turned to Draco. "Let's get out of here. I'll deal with the fallout later."

Without waiting for a response, Harry disapparated them out of the building to his flat.

"What do you think they're all saying about us back there?" Draco asked when they arrived.

"I don't really care," Harry answered. He finally had Draco back in his flat. He couldn't think about anything else. "Would you like some wine? We didn't get a chance to toast the new year."

"All right. Only a little, though. I'd like to keep my wits about me this time. I . . . I'm sorry about what happened last time."

As he poured, Harry frowned. "What do you mean? What happened?"

"I should have stopped when you asked me to. I behaved like a horny school boy with no self control."

Harry laughed. "The only reason I wanted you to stop was because I was about to cream my pants and I didn't want you to think I was a . . . horny school boy with no self control. I didn't really _want_ you to stop."

He handed Draco a half-filled glass and clinked his own against it.

"Cheers."

They each took a sip. After standing a moment, Harry removed Draco's glass from his hand and put them both down.

"I don't think I can pretend I'm not hard any longer."

Draco glanced down at his crotch. "I tried not to notice," he snickered. "It's rather obvious."

He reached out and rubbed the front of Harry's trousers.

"Fuck, don't do that. I don't want to cream my pants again," Harry breathed.

"Then take them off." Draco popped the button and unzipped them.

After that, clothing came off in a flurry, in between kisses and gropes. As they tumbled onto the sofa, grinding body parts, Draco ended up on his back with Harry hovering over him.

"There are so many things I want to do to you right now."

"Just pick one."

Harry leaned down taking Draco's cock into his mouth.

"Oh, that's a good one," Draco moaned.

Harry rolled his tongue over the head of Draco's cock, tasting the saltiness. His own cock leaked and he had the urge to stroke himself while he sucked Draco off. But he held off. It was the other man's hands he wanted on him, not his own.

As if reading Harry's mind, Draco leaned up and groped for him. His hand ran up Harry's thigh, not quite able to reach his cock.

"Oh, you have to stop," Draco said. "And I _mean_ it."

Releasing Draco, Harry asked why. "Not good?"

"Too good. I haven't had time to wank since I was here before. So, I don't think I'll be able to hold out for long."

Harry smirked. "Really? I've been wanking constantly. It's completely your fault, I'll have you know."

Sitting up, Draco gently pushed Harry backward on the sofa.

"Then you should be able to last while I get my fill."

He licked and sucked Harry's cock to his heart's content. The sounds Harry made spurred him on until Harry finally pushed him away.

"I don't want to cum alone. Is it too soon . . ."

"For what?"

"Is it too soon to . . . fuck? I mean, we haven't even talked about what sort of arrangement we want to have, I don't want to pressure you into anything, but . . . I'm ready."

It had been nearly ten months since Draco had been in a monogamous relationship. It ended badly and he vowed not to invest his heart in another one unless he was certain he wouldn't get hurt. But that was a guarantee he could never get. It was time to take another chance.

"Yes, please."

Quickly, before Draco changed his mind, Harry sat up, pushing Draco back to his original position. When Draco let his legs open, Harry kneeled between them.

"Accio lube." He caught the tube mid-air as it rushed toward him.

He poured a bit into his hands and rubbed them together. Taking both cocks in hand, he coated them well. He could have almost been satisfied bringing them off together that way. Knowing they were both ready to fuck, though, he kept the stroking to a minimum. He picked up the tube again, and pushing Draco's legs together, he straddled them instead.

"Accio condom."

"What are you doing?"

"I normally bottom. Is that okay?" Harry unrolled the johnny over Draco's erection. He swiped some extra lube in his arse and tossed the tube away. One of the many advantages to having a former lover who liked to screw as much as he did, was that Harry required little preparation for sex. One finger, simply to slide the lube inside, was usually sufficient.

"That's convenient. I normally top."

Wasting no more time, Harry moved up until his arse was lined up with Draco's cock and lowered himself. They groaned in unison. Slowly building to a steady pace, Harry directed the action.

It was just as well. Watching Harry move up and down on his cock left Draco feeling bit high. He was mesmerized by Harry's fit body and the expression of pleasure on his face.

He reached up to touch Harry's smooth chest. His other hand stroked Harry's cock.

Harry leaned forward, then back a bit, searching for the position to get Draco's cock precisely where he needed it. When he found it, he whimpered. Struggling to keep his bearings, Harry sped up his pace. His moans grew louder when Draco pinched his nipples.

"I'm so close. Keep doing that," Harry begged.

Draco was surprised at how long he himself was lasting. He made an effort to hold back, wanting the moment to last as long as possible. He used both hands to play with Harry's nipples while watching his cock bounce up and down in front of him.

"Draco, I'm gonna cum." Harry's cock spewed out in all directions, continuing to bob and fling cum onto Draco and the sofa.

The tightening of Harry's arse brought Draco quickly over the edge. As he emptied himself inside Harry, his grip on Harry's hips was tight enough to leave small marks, as they would discover later.

"Harry," he whispered. His hands wandered up Harry's body to his face, pulling it down to his own. The kisses he placed on Harry's lips were tender and gentle, now that the frantic passion was sated.

"That was . . . _so_ good," Draco sighed. He pulled off the filled condom and tied it, tossing it into a small waste can.

"Yes, it was," Harry chuckled. He leaned down and rested on Draco's chest, where they lay quietly for a while. Their eyes drifted closed.

"I can't believe I had sex with Harry Potter," Draco sighed.

Harry tensed, then sat back up on Draco's legs. "What do you mean?"

"Oh," Draco chuckled drowsily. "I didn't mean to say that out loud."

"But why did you say it like that? Like it was some sort of accomplishment, having sex with someone famous or something." Harry was afraid it was going to be like Clive all over again.

Draco opened his eyes. "No, not someone famous. I . . ." He covered his face with his hands. "I mean, I can't believe I'm here with _you_."

"Why not? I've been trying to get you back here for weeks."

"And I've been imagining being here for . . . well, a lot longer than that."

Harry pried Draco's hands away. "You have? For how long?"

Sighing, Draco began his confession. "Do you remember that last time we saw each other? I mean before I came to teach you to cook."

Harry thought. "I think it may have been a Quidditch match. Almost a year ago. Yeah, the Harpies versus the Magpies. It was right before I met Clive. You were there with some delicious eye candy on your arm as I recall."

"Carlos," Draco chuckled, rolling his eyes. "You walked past, but stopped to ask after my mother."

"I also remember making some sort of inappropriate quip about swallowing the snitch," Harry cringed.

Draco laughed. "Yes. And before that, we saw each other in Diagon Alley. One of the shop keepers was being rude to me. I don't know if you meant for it, but the way you treated me made the man soften his attitude toward me. Before that, it was a small gesture in Hogsmeade. Even right after the war, you helped my mother at her trial. That was probably when my infatuation began. It's only grown since then."

"Infatuation?" Harry smiled. "You had a crush on me?"

"Is that so difficult to believe? But I've never seen you as a celebrity. A hero, perhaps. But that isn't why I think you're brilliant."

"So, when we were cooking, and you kept putting your hands on me . . ."

"I took some liberties," Draco admitted. "I couldn't help wanting to be near you. I never would have accepted the invitation to stay from anyone else."

"Couldn't you tell that I liked it?"

"I could, once you pulled me on top of you and started humping me like a dog," laughed Draco. "I just wasn't confident enough to believe it wasn't all the wine."

"I'm perfectly sober now. And you're not my second choice. I want _you_."

Draco looked into Harry's eyes. He was sincere, Draco was sure. But there was still the matter of Harry's friends and the general wizarding public.

"I believe you. Your friends aren't happy about it, though."

"We'll deal with that later."

Feeling better after Draco's explanation, yet uncomfortable sticky, Harry got off the sofa to retrieve his wand. He knew Draco was watching him, so he made sure to give him the best view he could, especially when he bent over to pick up the wand. He performed a Scourgify on himself, Draco and the sofa. Then he pulled a large, fuzzy blanket off the armchair, sat down next to Draco, and wrapped them both up in it.

Smirking, Draco asked, "You're a cuddler? You didn't strike me as one."

"Clive wasn't one for unnecessary affection, as he put it." He felt Draco stiffen next to him. "Just because I mention Clive's name doesn't mean I miss him. It's usually because I'm realizing how much I _didn't_ like about him. You shouldn't at all feel threatened by him."

"Okay." Draco yawned and snaked his arm around Harry's back under the blanket. "So you know, I enjoy unnecessary affection. Even in public." His eyes closed as he began to drift off. It had been a long and exhausting day. That, coupled with the late hour, made it impossible for him to stay awake. The feeling of a warm, nude body next to him further lulled him to sleep.

Soon after, Harry too, was out, wrapped up in Draco's arms. Moments before he fell asleep, Harry thought about all he and Draco had yet to talk about. He also looked forward to cooking together again. Perhaps most of all, he would enjoy kissing the cook anytime he pleased.

oOo


	7. Chapter 7

***I apologize for the super long hiatus. I had much of this last chapter written since March, but then life got in the way. Once I post this, I will check off the little box that says 'complete'. Thank you for all the reviews, faves, and alerts for this short little fic. No new Drarry in the works, but I've been working on finishing Undercover Auror as well. Also I've been working on an original young adult scifi. Don't know if it will go anywhere. Just lots of fun writing it.**

oOo

When Harry tried to stretch and yawn, he found he couldn't move very much. He was wedged between the back of the couch and a firm back and arse. He smiled at the memory of the night before. Though they hadn't officially decided on the nature of their relationship, Harry was encouraged by the fact that Draco had spent the night.

The poor man had been exhausted, though, so Harry tried not to read too much into it. Draco had admitted to a long term crush. And while Harry honestly couldn't say the same, he had been hit hard and fast by Cupid's arrow in the short time he'd spent with Draco.

As Draco stirred, Harry watched him come to life. First a sigh, a little stretch, then the fluttering of eyes open. Unable to restrain himself, Harry brushed the pale blond hair off Draco's forehead.

"I'm still here," Draco stated the obvious.

"You were completely knackered."

"I didn't mean to impose."

"You haven't. I'm glad you stayed."

Draco reached up to Harry's hair. "You look like you've been thoroughly shagged."

"Funny that," Harry grinned.

The inevitable awkward pause hung in the air.

"So . . . I've been thinking, about what you said last night," Harry eventually broke the silence.

"Which part?"

"Uh, all of it," Harry chuckled. "But particularly the part about being hurt before. You said your last lover cheated on you."

Draco nodded.

"So, you've been a bit gun-shy?"

Draco nodded again. "Your, um, Clive alluded to you being unfaithful to him. Were you?"

"What? No. When did he say that?"

"He said it wasn't the first time you had been a bad boy." Harry blushed. "Oh, that. I may have behaved badly, but I never cheated on him."

"You behaved badly?" Draco curiosity was piqued.

"Clive liked to withhold sex as a punishment. On those rare occasions I didn't want to go along with him, he'd keep his distance. It was usually easier for me just to let him have his way."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Was he really _that_ good?"

Harry shook his head. "Don't get me wrong, the sex was great. But it wasn't the sex so much as the intimacy I wanted. It was the only way to feel close to him. Especially toward the end."

"What did you do that made him say you were a bad boy?"

"I, uh, well, I'm embarrassed to say that I went to one of those Muggle adult entertainment clubs. You know, where you can go and watch. And they have private rooms to . . . relieve yourself," he coughed. "I went there a couple of times. Clive may have thought I actually cheated on him there. Who knows, maybe he'd cheated on me, and that's why he didn't break up with me when he found out I went there."

"Why did you go there, if it was feeling close to Clive that you really wanted?"

"He was punishing me, so I wanted to punish him. I can see now that it was a very unhealthy relationship we had. Ron and Hermione tried for months to get me to dump him. I think I didn't want to admit I'd made a mistake with him, so I kept trying to make it work."

"That's . . . understandable. That was probably why I stayed with Carlos as long as I did."

"Anyway," Harry sighed. "I think you and I have been coming at this from opposite ends."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you've been reluctant to open yourself up. And I've been trying to jump in with both feet without looking. I think we should meet somewhere in the middle."

"Meaning?"

"If you let me in, I'll slow down."

Draco smiled. "It's a little late to slow down. Don't you think?"

"Maybe," Harry agreed. "Then, what do we do now? Do you have plans for today?"

"No. The business is closed today."

"Come with me to Ron and Hermione's. I've agreed to have a late breakfast with them."

Draco frowned. "I can't just show up on their doorstep on New Year's Day. You saw the looks they gave us."

"But now that I have you, I don't want to let you out of my sight." Harry wiggled his way out from the back of the sofa and climbed on top of Draco. "Please? They'll have to get used to seeing us together sooner or later."

"I vote for later."

"You said yourself that you thought Ron helped you. He won't mind."

Draco thought a moment. "Well, he may not have known I was the one who came to your flat that first time he came to Kiss the Cook, but he definitely knew it was me the second time. And he did tell me that you were over Clive. And that you were–

"I was what?"

"He said you were whinging about me not giving you a second chance," Draco laughed.

"I was _not_ whinging," Harry pouted. "Well, maybe I was a bit. So, will you come with me?"

Harry moved his hips against Draco's.

"I'll make it worth your while."

Draco groaned. "If you keep doing that, we'll never have time to make crumpets before we leave."

Grinning, Harry hugged him tightly.

"But," Draco continued, "I expect you to make it up to me when we get back."

oOo

Draco disapparated back to his own home to quickly shower and change while Harry did the same. Harry considered warning his friends that he was bringing Draco, but ultimately decided not to. It was better to ask forgiveness than permission. It would be more difficult for them to turn him away in person.

Bringing back with him a host of ingredients from his personal pantry, Draco made quick work of the crumpets. It would have been much quicker if Harry hadn't kept distracting him with touches and kisses every so often. Somehow, Draco even managed to make a lemon curd before they had to leave for the Weasleys' flat.

To soften them up, Harry even brought a bit of coal and salt with him.

Ron and Hermione answered the door together.

"Happy New– what's _he_ doing here?" Hermione demanded.

"Now, Mione, I told you that Harry had a thing for Malfoy."

"Yes, but you didn't say he was bringing him here."

Harry held out the items he brought. "Good luck offering? And Draco has bread. Well, actually, they're crumpets. Am I the first foot?"

"Yeah," Ron said, looking at his watch. "But, you're about eleven hours late. And he's . . . blond."

"And you're a red-head," Harry pointed out. "You know it's just a silly tradition anyway. You're not really going to turn away fresh crumpets and lemon curd, are you?"

Ron looked to Hermione with pleading eyes.

She sighed heavily, "Come in." She eyed up Draco as he entered their home.

He nodded in acknowledgment as he did, holding out the basket containing the goodies. Ron held out a drink for him, which he walked over to gladly take.

"Happy New Year, Hermione." Harry gave her a kiss. "I'm sorry to spring this on you. But I thought you'd be happy that I'm dating again."

"I was hoping you'd be dating Ian," she whispered.

"He wasn't my type."

"And Malfoy is?" she questioned.

"Surprisingly, I think so. I've spent more time talking and laughing with him in the past two weeks than I did with Clive the last two _months_ we were together."

Hermione skeptically raised an eyebrow.

"All right, maybe I exaggerated a bit. But I did laugh more. And Draco isn't trying to change me. And he doesn't want my money. And he kisses me like he–

"All right, all right," she held her hands up. "He can stay. However, I'll be keeping an eye on him."

They joined Draco and Ron, who was pouring another shot of fire whiskey for Draco and himself.

"A little early in the day for that, isn't it?" Harry chuckled.

"A shot or two couldn't hurt," Ron joked. "Would you like one as well?"

Harry glanced over to Hermione. "I don't think it'll be necessary."

While Hermione excused herself to check on food in the kitchen, the men talked amongst themselves.

"So, what happened after we left last night?" Harry asked Ron.

"Well, besides rumors spreading about the two of you? The party went on. Mione and I didn't stay too much longer. She felt it was necessary to apologize to that Ian bloke for you though."

"Apologize? For what? I didn't do anything worth apologizing for."

"No, of course not. I think she just felt bad that she got his hopes up."

"I don't know why she thought I'd like him anyway."

Hearing the last exchange as she brought in a tray of scrambled eggs, toast, baked beans and black pudding, Hermione added her opinion.

"Because, Harry, you and Ian actually have a bit in common. He's an ardent Quidditch fan and he's Muggle born. So, he knows what it's like to live in two different worlds."

Harry rolled his eyes, about to retort.

"Are you saying that wizards should stick to their own blood status?" Draco questioned. "Though, technically, Harry isn't Muggle born, simply raised that way." He regretted being confrontational towards Hermione in her own home, but he wasn't comfortable with the way she was still trying to talk Harry into dating someone else right in front of him.

"N-no, of course not," she stammered. "I was merely using that as an example of a starting point in a relationship."

"Now then, let's not argue about it," Ron said, pouring another shot of fire whiskey.

"I wasn't arguing, Ron," Hermione glared. "Harry asked why I thought Ian would be a good match."

"There was nothing wrong with him," Harry said. "Except that I wasn't going to be interested in him no matter how much we had in common. I already had my heart set on someone else." He gave Draco a smile he hoped would reassure him.

Ron helped Hermione bring out two more trays of food. On one was a traditional pot roast pork with Yorkshire puddings. And the other contained small finger foods normally served as party nibbles.

"Hermione, you've really outdone yourself," Harry praised. "But all this food just for the four of us?"

"I was hoping perhaps you'd bring–" she stopped herself from finishing that thought when Ron gave her a little nudge. "George and Angelina are coming by in a bit. And possibly Ginny."

"Brilliant," he grinned.

As they began to eat, they talked about their plans for the new year. Mainly Harry and Ron talked. True to her word, Hermione kept her eye on Draco, who mostly listened to the conversation around him. One of Harry's goals was to spend more time with his Godson. One of Ron's was to get a raise so he and Hermione could move into a bigger flat. Hermione's, as usual was to fight for House Elf rights, and anyone who couldn't stand up for themselves.

"What about you, Malfoy?" Ron asked. "Your company seems to be doing all right. What's your New Year's resolution?"

"I've never went in for New Year's resolutions much," he said. "But we're looking to add a couple more sous chefs to our staff. And we'll need to hire a public relations firm if we want to get our name out there. More corporate parties such as last night's would really help the business. Nearly all of our business cards were gone."

"Have you thought about doing retail?" asked Harry.

Draco shook his head. "Not particularly. At least not now. My partners and I want to concentrate on the catering and classes."

The doorbell rang and Hermione sprung up to answer it. Ginny, George and Angelina were all standing there. Before they could step inside, she pushed them back and stood in the hallway with them.

"Before you go inside, I need to warn you," she said. "Harry is here."

"Great," George smiled.

"He's brought someone with him," she continued. "And I don't think any of you will be any happier to see him than I was."

"Who is it?" asked Ginny. "He's not back with Clive, is he?"

"No, it's . . ." Hermione sneered, "Draco Malfoy, of all people."

George and Ginny stood with mouths open.

Angelina shrugged. "He's harmless."

"What? How can you say that?" Hermione questioned.

"My friend Alicia dates one of his partners, Paul McGill. I know he used to be a total prat, but he's not so bad now."

"He used to call me a mudblood."

"But that was ages ago. I don't think he's like that anymore. Paul is a Muggle born, and he's partners with him."

"Wait," Ginny frowned. "Why would Harry bring Malfoy to your house? How . . . what . . ." She was at a loss for words.

"Brace yourselves, but I think they're dating," Hermione answered dramatically.

"I just saw Harry on Christmas. He'd broken up with his boyfriend. He wasn't seeing anyone new. Just going on about some . . . oh."

"Some what?"

"Some charming chef who came to his flat to give him a cooking lesson. He was talking about Malfoy, wasn't he?"

"Speaking of cooking," George interrupted. "I can smell the pot roast from here. Are we going to get to go in and eat? I'm famished."

Reluctantly, Hermione opened the door to let them in. None of them reacted the way she thought they would. Angelina was nearly downright defensive of Malfoy. Before walking inside, Hermione heard greetings and reintroductions.

"How did your Godson like the magic kit?" George asked Harry.

"Oh, he loved it. He spent all day Sunday showing me trick after trick. Andromeda couldn't figure out why I'd gotten him a Muggle kit, though," Harry laughed.

"Andromeda? My aunt?" Draco blinked.

"Well, yes. Her grandson Teddy Lupin is my Godson. I thought you knew that."

"I-I think I'd heard something about that. But, sometimes I forget that I'm related to them. My aunt was disowned before I was even born."

"I know. Tonks and Remus were good friends." Harry gestured to Ron and George. "They visited the Weasleys at the Burrow often."

Sensing the awkwardness, George changed the subject.

"These Yorkshire puddings are the dog's bollocks, Hermione."

Angelina nudged him in the ribs. "He means they're fabulous. The pot roast as well."

"Thank you," Hermione smiled.

Nodding, Harry agreed, "Yeah, the roast is great, but I was really in the mood for toast and beans. And this black pudding . . . mm."

While everyone ate, Hermione sat with a satisfied smile on her face. Until Harry asked Draco what he thought of the food, that is. She braced herself for the criticism.

"Well, the pot roast was cooked well. And the Yorkshire puddings were indeed the d– er, delicious, perfectly puffed. The bacon and cheddar straws are nice and crisp. And the smoked salmon canapés are good, but . . ."

"But what?" Hermione asked defensively.

"Did you use ready-made blinis?"

"Uh, yes. Why?"

"Oh, there's nothing wrong with that. A lot of people do that to save time. I was just thinking that if you're going to all the trouble of preparing the salmon yourself, you should make your own blinis. They're really not difficult at all."

"The blinis weren't the only ready-mades," Ron chuckled, then shut his mouth at Hermione's glare.

"It doesn't matter," Ginny defended. "She probably wouldn't have had to use them if you'd have gotten off your arse and helped her."

"Well, I did make the Yorkshire puddings myself," Hermione sulked.

"No need to defend yourself," said Draco. "I wasn't being critical. But I'd be happy to show you how you can prepare all these things yourself." He glanced at Ron. "And get your husband to chip in."

"What?" Ron grumbled.

"That's an excellent idea," Harry grinned. "We should all do couples cooking class together."

"Angelina is already first rate." George put his arm around his girl.

"Thank you dear, but I think Harry meant that _you_ would benefit from cooking classes."

"I'll have to bow out," Ginny said wistfully.

"You could be my partner," Harry offered, earning him a sharp glare from Draco.

"The point of the couples lesson is to teach a _couple_ to enjoy preparing meals together," Draco reminded him.

"I prefer the private lessons anyway," grinned Harry.

Ginny smiled. Though she still wasn't sure how she felt about the match, she was happy to see Harry happy. "Maybe someday I'll be able to schedule the couples class."

"There are group classes," Draco told her. "You don't have to be part of a couple. Everyone should learn how to cook for themselves anyway."

"I get by all right," she said. "Perhaps I'd consider it, though."

They had saved Draco's crumpets and lemon curd for last, to have along with chocolate fairy cakes Ron had purchased in Diagon Alley.

By the end of the gathering, Ron and Hermione were penciled in for a romantic lesson for two in a few weeks. And Angelina had convinced George to do the same. Ginny took Draco's business card, saying she would look into Kiss the Cook's schedule.

Harry and Draco were the first to leave, having been there the longest. Harry had a feeling the rest of them were waiting to talk behind their backs anyway. He was happy to oblige if it meant getting to spend the rest of the day alone with Draco.

Arriving back at his flat, Harry plopped himself onto the couch.

"That went all right," he nodded, satisfied.

Draco shrugged. "I suppose it could have been worse."

"Oh, come on." Harry patted the sofa cushion next to him, beckoning Draco to join him. "You even gained new clients."

"Yeah," Draco said absently as he sat down.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't help thinking about how strange it is that you are closer to my own family than I am."

"I'm sorry about that. I guess sometimes I forget that Andromeda and Teddy are your family. I didn't mean to make you feel badly. You seemed a bit . . . at a loss."

"It got me thinking about all of your resolutions."

"I thought you didn't make them."

"Normally, I don't. In this case, perhaps I ought to make an exception and get to know my lost family. There aren't many of us left."

Harry grinned. "I can help you with that. You'd love both of them. Teddy is rambunctious, but he's a gentle boy. Andromeda is kind and forgiving."

"With other people perhaps . . ."

"You haven't done anything to Andromeda or Teddy to warrant forgiveness anyway."

"Except be on the side that killed her daughter and his parents."

"I think you need to forgive yourself for that first," Harry said. "Nobody could have reasonably expected you to defy your parents, or . . . Voldemort."

"Dumbledore did."

"Dumbledore hoped," Harry corrected. "And, you know what? If you could win over Ron and Ginny, and possibly even Hermione, you could probably win over Andromeda."

"The only one I want to win over is you," Draco smiled shyly.

"Done."

Harry kissed Draco's cheek, then his neck, and his chin. The he finally worked his way to Draco's lips. Draco groaned as their tongues explored one another's mouths. Harry moved to straddle his lap.

"You really did win them over. Thank you for coming with me."

"You're welcome. Is this the part where you make it up to me?"

Harry grinned. "And how shall I do that?"

"Any way you want to." Draco paused. "But I haven't been with anybody else in months. You don't have to use protection. I'm clean. Unless you . . ."

"No," Harry shook his head. "I don't think so. I've been planning to make a rather embarrassing visit to St. Mungo's since breaking up with Clive. He . . ."

"What is it?" Draco prompted at the pensive look on Harry's face.

"I didn't trust him. And yet I stayed. Even when I thought there was a possibility he was cheating. It's so out of character for me to go against my instincts. I didn't want to be lonely. But ironically, I was anyway. Even when I was in the same room with him."

Draco's brow drew together. "Are you sure this is what you want? Perhaps you shouldn't jump straight into another relationship."

"This is what I've wanted all along. I just didn't know I wanted it with you, until that night you showed up at my door. I trust you. And you were right when you said love should be easy."

"Love?" Draco asked quietly.

"Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself," Harry laughed. "But my instincts are telling me that this is right. I really do believe it's fate. All of it. Our encounters after the war, you coming to my flat after I broke up with Clive, and even me being a way for you to reach out to your lost family. We were meant to be."

A smile grew on Draco's face. "You know, the funny thing is, I wasn't really sure I believed in fate when I said that."

"And now?"

Draco took Harry's hands in his own. "Now, for the first time, I feel . . . complete."

"Just imagine how complete you'll feel with your cock up my arse while you make me scream."

"Fortunately, I don't have to imagine," Draco grinned.

Now that he wasn't exhausted, as the night before, Draco took the time to appreciated the gift of Harry's body as he unwrapped it. Harry was a rag doll in Draco's hands, allowing him to do as he pleased. After each article of clothing was removed, Draco licked and kissed the newly exposed skin. Harry's pants were the last to go.

"As much as I would love for you to kiss me there," Harry breathed, "I would probably cum straightaway."

Smiling, Draco leaned back and began to undress himself for Harry.

As he did, he said, "I didn't really get a chance to appreciate just how fit you are last night. Does being an Auror keep everyone in such fine shape?"

"Yeah, Ron's arse is spectacular."

Draco frowned.

"I'm only taking the piss," Harry laughed. "There's only one arse I'm interested in."

Going along with the flirtatious banter, Draco stood to pull his trousers down. As he did, he turned his backside toward Harry.

"Would it be this one, by any chance?"

"Aye, that's the one."

When Draco bent over to tug his pants down his legs, Harry's hands were on him.

"Does being a chef make everyone want you as badly as I do?" Harry played off Draco's earlier words. He kissed the back of Draco's neck. "I thought chefs were supposed to be chubby from sampling their creations."

"I work off those extra calories." Draco moaned as Harry's hand snaked around, gripping his cock.

"I can help with that."

"I feel a bit of exercise coming on right now," chuckled Draco.

Harry quickly grabbed a tube and a johnny out of the side table drawer.

"Harry, I told you, you don't need that."

"Until I'm certain Clive didn't pass anything along . . ."

Without waiting for another protest from Draco, Harry slipped the condom on his lover and squeezed a glob of lube into his hands. He turned around and knelt on the sofa, facing the wall. Turning his head, he said, "All yours." And he arched his back to entice Draco.

Not that he needed to. In an instant, Draco had a finger in up to the knuckle while he coated his covered cock in lube with his other hand.

"Draco," Harry whispered. "Take me."

Standing behind Harry, Draco slid his cock in. Slowly at first, they moved against one another, coming together, then pulling nearly apart.

In an effort to get closer, Draco knelt on the sofa as well, forcing Harry into the back cushions. The pressure against his cock made him gasp. The more they rocked together, the more friction Harry felt.

He took one of the pale hands clutching onto the back of the couch and directed it to his chest.

Draco recalled that Harry enjoyed a pinch and squeeze of his nipples from the night before. He raked his fingernails over the sensitive bump.

"Yeah," Harry cried out.

Delighted by Harry's squeal, yet disappointed that he hadn't seemed to have found Harry's happy spot on the inside, Draco got up on his feet for better leverage. The new angle bent Harry forward a bit and tilted Draco's cock to where it needed to be.

"Fuck!"

Draco smiled, quite pleased with himself for finally pleasuring Harry the way he deserved. By the sounds coming out of Harry's mouth, the man was not going to last much longer. Draco thrust harder and more quickly.

Harry was swiftly losing any composure he might have hoped to hold onto. Draco was relentlessly brushing against his prostate, while fondling his nipples. With each movement, the cushions provided soft, yet firm, resistance on his cock. It was more than he could take.

"Fuck. Yes. Draco." Harry threw his head back. His body jerked. Cum spurted out onto the cushions, onto the wall, and under Harry's chin as he screamed out Draco's name once more.

When he was certain Harry's eruption was over, Draco grasped his hips, pounding a last few times until he filled the condom.

After several minutes spent slumped against the back of the sofa, Draco extricated himself, got rid of the johnny, and performed a much needed Scourgify.

"Wow," Harry said dreamily. "And I thought last night was great."

"Yeah, well, I do a bit better when I'm not thoroughly exhausted. Although, I am exhausted now."

Draco lay down, pulling Harry with him to snuggle.

"This is nice," Harry smiled, closing his eyes and resting his head on Draco's shoulder.

Drawing lazy circles on Harry's back, Draco sighed. "I'm beginning to believe in fate after all. Being with you _is_ effortless. Thank you for not giving up on us."

Harry lifted his head to kiss him. "Thank the universe, or fate, or the gods for putting you in my path time and time again." He paused, looking vulnerable and hopeful at the same time. "I know it seems a bit rushed, but I think I'm falling in love with you."

They stayed still, staring into one another's eyes. Harry was afraid he might have scared Draco off with his declaration. Draco had already expressed his apprehensiveness where relationships were concerned. But Harry'd never been one to shy away from getting what he was after. He was prepared to spend as much time and effort as it took to make Draco his. He would do whatever it took to fit him into his life, and for Harry to fit into Draco's life. While Harry thought of rationalizations and justifications for the two of them to be together, Draco finally spoke.

"Already there." He smiled shyly. "But I'm willing to wait."

oOo


End file.
